Here For You
by TheDocRoach
Summary: Sequel to I Hate Witches. Sam, Bobby, and John take care of Dean the best they could after a spell left him blind and deaf. Dean fears he will be like this for the rest of his life. Blind/Deaf!Dean Protective/Caring!Sam and Bobby, Guilty!John. Season 1.
1. Chapter 1

**Yay! First chapter of my new fanfic! :D Hope y'all like it! Sequel to _I Hate Witches_ (for those who haven't read that one, you should before u continue here). So still set in Season 1 between the eps _"Scarecrow" _and _"Faith"_.**

**Super stoked about season 7 FYI! It's amazing so far! I can't wait for next week's ep! Jensen Ackles is directing X3 YAAAAAAAY! I hope there's some brotherly love in it!**

**Also, BONUS that the remake of _My Bloody Valentine_ is coming on SyFy 2nite at 9! Jensen is gonna be in it! YES! Can't wait!  
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***ahem* Sorry...please enjoy my new fanfic XD; I will try to update more often!**

**_Supernatural_: (C) Erik Kripke!**

**I OWN NOTHING! I only own this plot and Clare (I so want a black cat QwQ)**

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><p>Bobby and John remained silent, watching with aching hearts and tearing eyes as Sam held Dean for what felt like ages. Their sobs merged together as they gripped each other in a tight embrace. Usually Dean strayed away from these chick-flick moments, but right now, he could care less. He needed the comfort from his baby brother. He couldn't hear or see him, couldn't even hear himself utter apologies and assurances to try and calm Sam down, though they did nothing of the sort for either of them.<p>

The only sense he had left that could prove he was in reality and not in some kind of messed up dreamverse was his sense of touch. And although he had no memory of what had happened to him for the past three months, he could remember getting in a nasty tangle with a very powerful and seriously ticked off witch. He could remember how she had said she wanted some fun first, beating him till he was bent over double, gasping for air. His chest had hurt like a bitch; he knew he must have some good-looking bruises on his ribs, some of which might have been snapped in two. Then he found himself forced down onto an old, wooden chair, his sore, aching arms being forced behind him and bound tightly at the elbows and wrists with scraggly, thick ropes. His ankles had also been fixed to the front legs of the chair. A pain throbbed through his temples as blood seeped from the gash in his lip. He had found he couldn't open his left eye all the way, which meant he had a hell of a shiner. Dean also remembered a vile smell filling his nostrils shortly before he could taste it as the witch harshly forced his head back and poured in some type of black liquid. It had tasted like a mix between rotten eggs and moldy bread. He wanted to spit it out, but the witch held her hand tightly over his mouth, her index finger and thumb pinching his nose shut, so he had no way of breathing. The liquid swashed around in his mouth, burning the back of his throat, making his eyes water. But he couldn't get rid of it. Not while the witch had him hand-gagged His vision swam from the lack of oxygen, and he decided the only way out of this was to swallow the liquid. So he did. That was when he had passed out.

The next time Dean had opened his eyes, he was lying sideways across the bench of the frontseat of his beloved Impala. At first, he didn't comprehend how he had got there. Then he felt something warm and soft under his head, and a gentle stroking motion was making its way through his hair. He recognized the faint smell of the old cologne and the girly shampoo and immediately figured it out. Sam. Sam had saved him! He had found his big brother, killed the witch, and was now taking him to get help. Dean moaned and shifted slightly, causing the stroking to cease.

"Dean? Dean? You okay?"

Dean had answered with another moan, his sides aching unbearably. He felt like he was on fire, and he was sweating profusely despite the fact that he was was shivering

The hand that had been caressing his hair moved to his face, cupping his cheek. He had involuntarily moved his head into the touch, relishing the gentleness of the thumb moving in comforting circles on his cheek.

"It's okay, Dean," his little brother whispered, his voice sounding muffled and distant. "I'm going to fix you up when we get back to the motel. Don't worry."

If Dean had been in a more coherent, he would have retorted to a smug remark about his little brother's choice of words. But right now, all he could do was moan and groan.

The last thing Dean remembered was Sam getting him inside their motel room and gently depositing him on one of the beds. Then the world went black.

Now here he was, in his little brother's arms without a clue as to what had happened. It worried him. He suddenly gasped and jumped about a mile into the air when he felt something furry brush against his bare calf. He clutched even tighter onto Sam, digging his fingernails into the flesh of his back.

"Ow, Dean! It's okay! It's okay! It's just Clare!" Sam assured him, unaware about the fact that Dean had no memory of being regressed into a child. He knew Dean wouldn't hear him, though, but he couldn't help but feel a need to talk to his brother. It helped him keep calm on the outside while he was freaking out on the inside, unsure of what to do and how to help his brother. How would he communicate with him if he was deaf and blind? He would have to figure out something, and fast. But for the time being, Sam just gave his brother a gentle, reassuring hug and held him away, keeping him propped up with one arm as he outstretched the other, lowering it to the ground. He then clicked his tongue and waved his fingers.

"Clare, come here, girl," he called.

"Sam," John began, "it's a cat, not a dog. They don't come when you call them."

But once again, John was made a fool as Clare pridefully pranced over to Sam's hand, nuzzling her head against his palm. Sam gave him a quick glance and a smirk before returning his attention back to his big brother. He gently grasped Dean's quivering wrist, feeling the racing pulse under his fingertips. He then maneuvered Dean hand till his palm rested on top of Clare's head. Clare meowed and began purring. She licked Dean's fingers. The 27-year old flinched but soon relaxed as he recognized what he was feeling.

"Is...is that a c-cat?"

Sam then moved Dean's other hand to his face, setting it against his own cheek so Dean could feel him nodding. Dean let out a slow, relieved breath before he began petting Clare's head, then her back.

"Feels small, it's a kitten?

Sam nodded again.

"Feels so soft. Where'd she come from?"

Sam felt his throat close up. Dean didn't remember Clare. And if he didn't remember Clare, then he didn't remember the second childhood he had been given. Tears sprung up in Sam's eyes. Dean felt wetness on his fingers and turned his opaque eyes up towards where he knew Sam's face was.

"Sammy? You okay?"

Sam nodded again, but his tears betrayed him. But Dean surprised him by wiping them away.

"Sammy, why are you crying? You're scaring me, bro."

"Sorry," Sam whispered, grasping Dean's hand and giving it a tight squeeze.

Dean squeezed back with just as much affection then presumed stroking Clare's head. She climbed up onto his lap and laid down, enjoying the comfort, purring loudly and contently.

"We should get out of here, head back to the motel," Bobby suggested, breaking the tender moment between the brothers.

Sam nodded in agreement. "Yeah, but we should go to another motel."

Bobby didn't have to ask why. He knew why Sam's reason behind wanting to stay at a different motel. He knew that he had enough of Salem, and frankly, so did Bobby. He was more than ready to put this old-fashioned town in his rearview mirror as soon as possible.

"We'll head back to Bobby's and hole up there till we figure this whole mess out," John said.

Sam gave him a stern look, about to yell how they would fix _this_ without hurting Dean even more, but closed his mouth. No use trying to pick a fight when his brother was so...vulnerable. He almost said weak, but his larger than life big brother was anything but weak; proving that himself more than once. And he'd punch anyone who dared say anything otherwise, even his own father. John hadn't said anything about Dean's prone state, but Sam knew that he was thinking it. He had lost his favorite soldier, when he had only tried to save him. Irony was a bitch.

Sam made sure his jacket was secured over his big brother before he moved his hands so he had one arm across Dean's back and the other under his knees. Clare moved to lay on Dean's chest as Sam effortlessly lifted him up. Dean gripped Sam's shoulder with one hand while the other held onto Clare.

"Whoa! Sam," Dean cried, his voice squeaking a bit. "Put me down! I'm deaf and blind, not handicapped! Damn it! Sammy!"

Sam had to chuckle as he followed his father and Bobby out to the Impala. Even dazed and confused, Dean still had to play the brave hero card. But not this time. It was now Sammy's turn to care for him, like he had been for the past three months. It seemed like he was going to keep the role as protector for a little while longer.

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><p><strong>REVIEW PWEEZE! oAo :3 Gracias! It would be an honor if y'all also check out my other fanfics and give me ur awesome insights on them too 83<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm glad y'all are liking the sequel so far! :D Makes me happy! :3**

**I noticed some things from _I Hate Witches_ kinda needed a bit more detail, so I'm explaining a bit more about them here :) It bothered me, and my conscience wouldn't let me leave it alone :P**

**Hope u like this chapter! I enjoyed typing it!**

**FYI: I'm DITTOFAN04 on deviantART, so if you want to check out my _Supernatural_ fanart, feel free to! I also have other fanarts as well :) And if you're interested in viewing my videos on YouTube, I'm TheBigChillQueen there :) Thanks!**

**Set between _"Scarecrow"_ and _"Faith"_  
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**_Supernatural_ (C): Erik Kripke! :D**

**I only own the plot, Clare, and seasons 1-6 of SPN, 7 SPN books, a necklace that has the Impala on it and says 'Supernatural' and 'Brothers in Arms', a SPN t-shirt and John Winchester's Journal.**

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><p>The Impala made its way down the rain slick highway, heading out of Salem, something the Winchesters and Bobby were glad about. They had went back to the motel, relieved to see that the cops were long gone. They noted that the body of the poor man the demon had possessed had been taken away. The coroner would have a difficult time in finding the cause of death, possibly because the man might have been dead already before the possession. But they wouldn't dismiss the bullet wound in his leg, though. John would have to dispose of his gun to make it difficult for the cops to trace it to him. Or at least, he hoped it would.<p>

Once they had returned to the motel, they had to be quick and thorough with looking through their room, gathering everything they might have forgotten. Sam was relieved to have been able to grab Clare's possessions as well as the amulet he had given Dean for Christmas fifteen years ago. He had made sure to keep it safe after Dean had been turned into a child, taking it off his brother since it was a bit big for him to wear, hanging it around his own neck and only taking it off before he showered and when he relaxed, like he was doing prior to the demon attack. He was glad it was left right where he left it on the nightstand, and not taken for evidence. He couldn't imagine how Dean would react when he found out one of the things he cherished a lot was gone. Once they were set, John, Sam, and Bobby got back into the Impala, where Dean was quietly and patiently waiting, and set off once more.

Sam sat in backseat along with Dean, who was staring out the glass with a blank look on his face, a sign that he was deep in thought, on the right side of him, an elbow propped up on the door, his chin resting on his clenched fist. Sam noted that it was quivering slightly. He knew his brother was tense. He couldn't blame him though. Dean took the role of big brother very seriously, but now that he was blind _and_ deaf, there was no way of knowing when his little brother was in trouble. He wouldn't be able to protect him. And that scared him to the core. It made Sam's heart ache. Dean's other hand was distraitingly caressing Clare's back as she snoozed away on his lap. John was quite as he drove the Impala, Bobby in the passenger seat, occasionally glancing back at the brothers with concern. It hurt him seeing the two boys he saw as his own sons this way. They devoted their lives to saving everyone they could, so why were they being punished for it? It just didn't make any sense.

Sam sighed, breaking the silence and shifted his attention from the rain splattered window and glanced at his brother. He nudged his shoulder slightly with his own. Dean was startled from his reverie and looked over at where he knew his brother was. Sam wasn't sure if he'd ever get used to seeing his brother's eyes so pale, but he knew he'd have to eventually.

"What?" Dean asked, his loud voice making Sam jump a little. He couldn't help it though, and Sam had no way of telling him. So that was another thing they'd have to get past. Despite Dean's voice being a bit on the boisterous side, Sam noted a tone of despair. It was enough to make him feel even more sympathetic for his big brother. _"What?"_ Dean repeated, this time the volume of his voice matching his irritation, making Sam flinch.

Sam responded by benignly grabbing hold of Dean's wrist. At first, Dean tried to pull it away, but Sam held onto it firmly, and he had no choice but to begrudgingly give in, sighing in annoyance, rolling his eyes and muttering something about obnoxious little brothers.

Sam smirked and reached into his pants pocket, his fingers brushing against the cool, hard metal of his brother's prized amulet, taking it out and placing it into Dean's palm.

Sam's smile widened further as Dean's hardened expression brightened, recognizing the feel of the item he had literally and figuratively held dear to his heart. He felt his eyes sting with tears. One escaped and raced down his cheek. He felt a gentle thumb wiping it away. He so wish he could hear Sam saying "Your welcome, Dean" or see how Sam's eyes glistened with happy tears upon seeing him look the way he did when John had given him the Impala for his 16th birthday.

Dean quickly placed the necklace back around his neck, his index and thumb grasping the brass, horned head tenderly, his eyes closed as he relished the feeling of being reunited with his third prized possession, right after Sam and the Impala. Sam placed a comforting hand on Dean's shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze. His face then became serious as he turned to address his father.

"You said there was another witch gunning for Dean," he started. "Do you think she knows we ditched town?"

John's eyes briefly glanced back at him in the rearview mirror before going back to the bare stretch of road ahead, illuminated by the pale yellow beams of the Impala's headlights.

"I'm not sure, Sam. But we can't take the chance and say we're out of the woods."

"What are you suggesting we do then?" Bobby asked.

"Well, we find her before she finds us, obviously," John responded.

"How?" Sam asked. "We have no way of tracking any witch down."

"How'd you find the one that had taken Dean before?" John demanded.

"The GPS in Dean's phone," Sam replied simply, annoyed.

John fell silent.

"Well we can't just sit on our thumbs and _wait_ for her to find us," Bobby said matter-of-factly.

"What other choice do we have?" Sam asked.

"Well..." John hesitated. He then fell silent, feeling two pairs of anxious eyes on him.

"Well what?" Bobby said, knowing that he wasn't going to like what was about to come out of his old friend's mouth.

"Don't get mad at me for suggesting this but...we know that the witch is after Dean, right? Maybe..."

"No." Sam instantly said, gripped Dean's arm, startling him. "We are _not_ using Dean as bait! Why the hell would you even suggest that?" Sam's voice rose with his anger.

"I'm not hearing anyone else come up with any other ideas!" John countered. "Seems like the only option we have!"

The Impala swerved as John lost control, nearly sending them into a ditch. Sam quickly grabbed onto Dean and held him up against him. Clare woke with a yelp and dug her claws into Dean's thighs. Dean hissed, feeling four sets of sharp pinpricks. John quickly got the big car under control and continued driving.

"Geez, John," Bobby berated. "Learn to drive, will ya?"

John grumbled something under his breath. Sam rolled his eyes and turned to his still shaky brother, who had no idea what had just happened. He had shoved Clare off his lap, massaging the area where her claws had dug into his thigh. Clare watched him with eyes Sam swore looked apologetic. She was sitting, nearly leaning, against Dean's side, purring. Sam patted Dean's arm reassuringly. Dean closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly and shakily. He then nodded, signaling to Sam that he was okay. Sam kept his hand on Dean's arm though.

It wasn't long till both brothers eventually fell asleep, Dean leaning against the car door, head resting against the cool glass, Sam's head on his shoulder, hand still on his brother's arm, and Clare stretched across both of their laps, also sound asleep. John watched the scene with a heavy heart in the rearview mirror, his mind going back twenty-three years when Sam was six months old and Dean was four. It was a little after losing Mary and they were all staying in a shabby motel. He remembered how Dean used to fall asleep beside Sam on the same bed, his small hand over the little infant's heart, being the best big brother he could. He had often walked in on that same scene nearly everyday after returning late from a hunt. It had always put a smile on his face and he would quietly sit on the other bed and watch them sleep till he eventually did himself.

Now John was experiencing the opposite, watching as his sons magically switched roles, never thinking it would ever happen. But the way Sam was caring for his brother in his current condition proved him wrong. That seemed to happen a lot lately, he realized. It seemed like he was losing his touch in his old age. He scoffed at the thought.

"What's so funny?" Bobby asked quietly.

"It's just..." John laughed silently, his smile brightening his face. He then looked over at Bobby. "I kinda forgot who I'm really supposed to be."

"What're you talking about?" Bobby asked.

"All this time I've been a hunter,"

"And a stubborn son of a bitch," Bobby added, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

"Heh, true. But I'm also a father of two growing boys. I think it's about time I start acting like one and treating them like sons instead of soldiers."

"Took you long enough, you idjit," Bobby smirked.

"Shut up, old man."

"Hey, you're not much younger than me. So better watch who you're calling 'old'."

John chuckled and shook his head. Looked like this cloud had a silver lining after all.

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><p><strong>Daaaw :D I think John and Bobby are making amends! X333 Yay!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Finals...are...killer =A=;;;;  
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**But tomorrow's my last day and I'm getting a new laptop over break :D yay! So who knows, maybe I'll be writing more ^^ *hopefully***

**Imma excited! 8D**

**And some of you may have noticed in this story that Sam is still talking to Dean despite the fact he's deaf. Like I said before, he only does that to keep himself calm, as a sort of reassurance to him. Plus he's treating Dean as he normally would *well if he was sick or dying XD* and not as an invalid.**

**It kinda annoys me when people look at those who are deaf, blind, or mute or those with mental or physical incapabilities *such as my older brother and 6 yr old step sis* in a different perspective or make fun of them. They don't need pity or disrespect! They need kindness and respect! They deserve to be treated like individuals! *Deep breath* KK...sorry, just had to get that off my chest. Anyways...Enjoy *innocent smile***

**I own only Clare and the plot :P**

**_Supernatural_: (C) Eric Kripke! :D  
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><p>Eight hours later, John pulled the Impala up in front of a diner. They had made it so to a tiny town somewhere in western Pennsylvania with minimum stops, most being stops to fill up the gas guzzler that was the Impala. But it didn't take long for growling stomachs to remind them that none of them had eaten anything since the night before. It would take them another seventeen hours to get back to Sioux Falls South Dakota and another hour or so to reach the Singer Auto Yard. So what would another pit-stop hurt? Sam got out after Bobby and John, helping Dean out next and maneuvering him to lean against the side of the Impala as he took the keys from John. Sam then moved to the trunk, unlocking it, picking up Clare's food and water dishes and the bag of kitten kibbles he had bought awhile back, and headed back to the backseat of the Impala, where Clare was watching him with curious green eyes and a tilt of her head.<p>

Sam smiled whimsically, wishing he could carry the strange, adorable bundle of fur with him. But he knew the patrons of the diner, especially the owners, wouldn't take so kind to having something with fur inside their supposedly hygienic and well kept establishment.

"Sorry, sweetie. But you'll have to wait here. Do you think you'll be alright for a few minutes?"

Clare meowed in response, her bowed mouth seemed to curl up even further in a weird smile-like fashion. She then began purring. Sam laughed and poured her some food. He then grabbed an unopened water bottle from the glovebox and emptied it's contents into the water dish, placing them both on the floor of the Impala.

"I'll try to bring you back something," Sam promised, giving the cat a quick scratch under the chin before he proceeded to make sure the window was cracked a bit to allow cool, fresh air to flow inside the interior before shutting the door. He made sure the locks were set before he took hold of Dean's elbow, guiding him towards the diner, John and Bobby following in tow.

**SPNSPNSPN**

Immediately after crossing the threshold, Dean felt a sense of unease. Though he couldn't see, he did _feel_ more than a dozen or so eyes looking in his direction. He could practically sense the auras of pity and questioning emanating from each individual soul. It made him feel even more uncomfortable and he sought refuge by clinging tighter to Sam's arm with the hand of the arm Sam had hold of. He felt a comforting hand on his shoulder, followed by a simple, firm but gentle squeeze.

"People are staring at me, Sammy," Dean couldn't hear how whiny his voice sounded. And he hated that. Made him sound even more desperate than he wanted to let on. But his father, surrogate father, and little brother didn't complain. They had to be strong for the distraught and incapable hunter. It was all they could do.

Sam's grip on Dean's shoulder tightened as he used his taller frame to shield his big brother from leery eyes as he led him to an empty table at the far end of the diner. Bobby and John gave everyone they passed a warning glare to mind their own business, and they immediately obliged, quickly going back to eating and the room was soon full with a dull din of indistinct chatter.

"Damn idjits," Bobby grumbled, giving the room one more stern glare. He and John sat opposite of Sam and Dean; the oldest of the two sitting close to the window, practically leaning against it, his head lying on the cool glass. His clouded eyes looked distant. Sam's heart broke more seeing his hero look so broken and depressed. He wished he knew how he could help him.

A young waitress approached their table, pad and pen at ready, held in delicate, manicured hands. She had a beaming, red-rimmed smile, showing off her perfectly straight, white teeth. Her straw-colored hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, a few strands sticking out to frame her oval-shaped face. Her sapphire eyes seemed to sparkle with an everlasting jubilance. Sam noticed her uniform seemed to show her hourglass figure quite well, especially her bosom, some of which he could see peeking out from her partially unbuttoned blouse, something she may have done deliberately upon seeing two handsome young guys such as Sam and Dean. Sam mentally rolled his eyes at the thought. He wasn't interested in any sort of relationship; what with it being nine months since Jessica had been kil-_passed away_. But he knew that Dean would be all over the young girl in a heartbeat, practically salivating as he scored her number and mentally undressing her. It was something Sam usually found a bit naive. But now seeing as Dean didn't...no..._couldn't_...acknowledge their waitress' presence, it made him wish all the more that he had his annoying, vulgar brother back instead of the lifeless shell he was left with. His stomach was twisted in worrying knots.

"Hi!" the waitress greeted gleefully, her smile broadening as she looked from each occupant of the table to the other. Her eyes seemed to linger a bit on Dean before finally shifting to Sam and then back at John. Her nametag read Sasha. "What can I get you all? If you don't mind, I'd like to recommend our famous steak burger with homemade fries! They're to _die_ for!"

John forced a kind smile on his face as he looked up at her. "That does sound good, sweetie. I'll take it."

"Ditto." Bobby agreed.

"Caesar salad with light dressing and croutons for me." Sam said.

"You got it, honey," Sasha turned her attention to Dean. "What about you cutie?"

But Dean remained silent, staring blankly through the pane of glass. Sasha frowned. "Is he okay?"

Sam felt unease settle in his stomach as he was forced to explain. "He...umm...he can't hear you. Or see you."

Sasha gasped, her eyes widening as she comprehended this information. "Omigosh...I'm so sorry, I didn't...how long?"

"That's none of your business," John suddenly snapped, making Sasha jump. "Just get him the same as me and don't ask anymore stupid questions. Understood?"

Sasha was speechless by the rough, militant tone John's voice had adopted. She opened her mouth, as if to speak, but decided against it. Instead she turned on her heels and ran off to get their orders.

"Was that really necessary?" Bobby growled, giving John a sharp jab to the ribs.

"She was being nosy," John replied truthfully. Even Sam nodded in agreement.

"She kinda was. We don't need people looking at Dean like he's some kind of invalid. He needs to be treated like his normal self."

"So you're just gonna yell at anyone who gives him a curious eye?" Bobby asked incredulously.

Sam and John looked at each other then back at him, nodding and saying "Yeah" in unison. It was one of the few things they've agreed on.

Bobby sighed, placing a hand over his face. "Idjits."

Sam and John laughed. It felt good that they were all together and getting along well. It was a shame that it was only because of Dean's unfortunate predicament.

Suddenly, Dean jackknifed up in the booth beside Sam, making them all jump in surprise.

"Did our waitress come by yet?" he asked.

Sam couldn't help but burst out laughing. Some of the customers turned to glare at him, some even telling him to shut the hell up, but Sam just ignored them. John and Bobby were smiling.

Dean felt the booth vibrate and his heart hammered in his chest. Was there an earthquake or something? What was happening? He started to tremble nervously. Sam saw this and instantly ceased his laughing, wrapping a comforting arm around his shoulder while the other grasped Dean's arm.

"It's okay, Dean," Sam said, hugging his brother close for reassurance. Dean felt the positive energy flow off his brother and soak through his own skin, absorbed by his shaking body, which slowly but surely began to relax. He then realized why the booth had been vibrating in the first place.

"Sorry," Dean muttered. "you scared me for a minute there. I thought your laughing was an earthquake."

Sam snorted, smiling fondly, and gave his big brother one more comforting squeeze. Dean then pushed him away.

"Okay, that's enough chick-flick moments for now," he grumbled. But Sam heard the smile in his voice.

A few minutes later, a still apprehensive and intimidated Sasha returned with their foods, quickly placing them down and hastily made her escape again.

"She forgot to ask what we wanted to drink," Bobby noticed suddenly.

"Should I go tell her?" John went to stand but was stopped when Bobby grabbed his elbow firmly.

"I don't think so. Last thing that poor girl needs is a heart attack. I'll do it." Bobby then got up and headed towards the counter.

Sam snorted as he helped Dean figure out where his food and utensils were. Once he made sure Dean was set, he dug into his own salad.

Twenty minutes later, they were all settled in the Impala once more and on the highway for another leg of their journey, unaware of the pair of vengeful, electric blue eyes watching them leave from the deep shadows of the diner.

"Finally found you after so long. The time for vengeance has come. Do not worry, dear sister. I will make him pay dearly for what he's done. His entire family shall suffer. Then you shall rest peacefully."

The eyes then melted into the darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

**Yeah. Got a new laptop and Microsoft Word came with it X3 YAY! I love it *O* Anyways...I finally solved the communication problem between Sam and Dean (I hope) ^^; It was the best I could think of, so I hope it's okay. So...ENJOY! While u read this, I'll be watching _Psych_ and reading more SPN fanfics...lol. Have fun!**

**Sequel to _"I Hate Witches"_**

**This story takes place between _"Scarecrow"_ and _"Faith"_.**

_**Supernatural **_**(C): Eric Kripke :D**

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><p>Sam looked over at where Dean lay on his back. He was on the couch, sound asleep. Clare was in between him and the back of the couch, curled up in the crook of Dean's right arm. Sam stood in the doorway watching him, hands in his pocket and his head resting against the doorframe. His face was a mix of sadness and fondness. He never seen his big brother look so peaceful and calm, yet here he was. There was no sign of distress anywhere across the twenty-seven year old's face, and he was relieved. But that was short lived, however. He worried that there was no cure for this. Dean was now more vulnerable to harm. He would have no way of knowing if a spirit or demon was coming for him. But Sam would make sure none of them hurt his brother.<p>

Sam sighed and straightened up, heading towards the recliner beside the couch, not taking his eyes off of Dean for one second as he sat down. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He interlaced his fingers and rested his chin atop them, index fingers over his lips in deep thought.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you, Dean. I would give anything to be able to go back in time and stop Dad from using that spell. Damn it, I should have!" Sam's breath hitched as did his emotions. He placed his hands on his forehead as tears streamed from his eyes. "I should've jumped in at the first sign of things going to Hell! Why didn't I?" Sam started sobbing now, first softly but then they gradually rose into distraught cries. Clare awoke and looked up at him with curious green orbs.

Sam looked up and gave her a shaky smile.

"Sorry, Clare," he whispered, "I-I didn't mean to wake you. G-go back to sleep. Dean needs you more than me."

Clare gave him a wistful look before stretching her paw out, laying it on Dean's chest, and resting her head on her arm. She shut her eyes and resumed her slumber.

Sam composed himself a few minutes later and stood up.

"I'll go make you some dinner for when you awake, okay, big brother?"

Of course Dean couldn't answer. He couldn't hear him. Sam left before he let his emotions take over again. He entered the kitchen. John was sitting at the kitchen table, a coffee mug clenched between his hands as he stared down into the murky depths of the steaming black liquid. Bobby was standing off to the side, leaning back against the counter, a beer bottle in his grasp. Both hunters looked up as Sam entered.

"How's he doing?" Bobby asked quietly.

Sam shook his head as he poured himself a cup of Joe before heading over to the cupboards to see what he could spruce up for Dean.

"He's been sleeping since we got here. I mean, I guess he can't really do much, now. But it's hard seeing him like this. He's always talking and moving around, ya know?"

"Give it time, Sam," John said, sounding incontrovertible. "Knowing Dean, he'll bounce right back. He usually does. I didn't train you two to sit around all day, moping."

The nerve that John had been balancing precariously on finally snapped and Sam whirled around, slamming his mug onto the table with such force, it cracked the porcelain along the side a bit.

"How the hell is Dean supposed to get over something like _this_?" Sam rounded on his father. "He may be stuck being blind and deaf-which, may I remind you, is _your _fault-for the rest of his life and you're expecting him to just bounce back as his normal self?"

"He's a hunter, Samuel," John growled defensively. Bobby cringed when he had used Sam's full first name. John wasn't going to take Sam's new found disrespect towards him all too kindly.

"No, he's your _son_, damn it!" Sam threw his hands up in frustration. "And right now, he deserves to be treated like one! We've already established that, or so I thought. There's no way he can hunt in his condition. He won't be able to hear or see the threat coming. He's too vulnerable."

"Well the witch won't give a rat's ass about that. She'll see it as the perfect opportunity to attack him. It's the usual tactic of every predator."

Sam sighed and ran a hand down his face, placing a hand on his hip. Even though he hated to admit it, John was right. The witch would see this as a perfect chance to take out Dean. This meant Sam was going to be on sentinel duty. And he wasn't going to let his brother out of his sight, not even for a second.

"I understand Dean's predicament, but he needs to learn how to use his other senses to help him survive." John continued.

Sam scoffed. "Other senses? How the hell is he gonna _feel _or _taste_ when the witch is coming, Dad?" Sam scoffed incredulously again, shaking his head.

"Don't be a smart-ass, Sam," John snapped. "I know plenty of hunters with similar situations like Dean's and they're doing pretty damn fine."

"That's because they had _years_ to hone their skills. Dean just became like this! If the witch is gunning after him now, then he has no time to train. We have to do something _now_."

The room fell silent as the three hunters contemplated on what to do. But none of them could think of a single thing. Sam watched as Bobby tapped his fingers on the counter as he thought.

_Taptaptap….taptap….taptap…taptaptap….tap._

A realization suddenly dawned on Sam and his mouth dropped open in utter disbelief that he hadn't thought of this sooner.

"Dad! Bobby!" Sam exclaimed so loud, it startled the older hunters. They looked up at him in bewilderment, confused as to why Sam was suddenly grinning like a lunatic and shifting from one foot to the other in excitement.

"Boy, what's gotten into you?" Bobby asked.

"Did you figure out how we're gonna help Dean?" John wondered.

Sam shook his head. "No, but I did figure out how we can communicate with him!"

Bobby and John exchanged quick glances.

"What are you thinking, Sam?" John said.

"Don't you remember teaching Dean and me how to use Morse Code?" Sam asked, still grinning like an idiot and seriously hoping that his father would catch onto what he was thinking.

His heart nearly plummeted in disappointment when John's eyebrows furrowed, obviously trying to recall the time he had ever taught his boys something as simplistic as Morse Code. Sam's hopes rose as John's eyes brightened and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

"Are you saying you want to use Morse Code to try and _talk _with Dean?"

Sam almost rolled his eyes, but nodded instead, his grin broadening. "Yes! It'll be easier for him to let us know what he's thinking o-or what he wants! What do you think?"

"Well, I say it's the best option we've got," Bobby shrugged. "I mean, if Dean remembers how to use Morse Code, then it's a shoe in!"

"Dad?" Sam looked at him expectantly.

John nodded. "Dean should still remember that lesson. He's remembered every single one I've taught you boys for the past twenty-six years, so I say we go for it."

Sam laughed in sheer joy and bounded into the living room, yelling "Dean!" He skidded to an abrupt stop in front of the couch and dropped to his knees in front of it. He then grabbed Dean's shoulders. Big mistake. In his excitement, Sam had forgotten the single, most important rule about Dean: never startle him when he's sound asleep. Not unless you wanted to lose a body part. Sam had barely managed to dodge the killing punch Dean delivered as he shot straight up. Thank God for his quick reflexes. The tip of Dean's knuckles just grazed Sam's nose as the young hunter leaned back to dodge the punch that would have given him a severe concussion if it didn't kill him first.

"Sam?" Dean gasped, his heart pounding timorously. "Sam?"

Sam recovered quickly and placed a comforting hand upon Dean's shoulder. He was slow and cautious with his movements though. Once Dean felt the gentle touch, his rapid breathing eased and he collapsed back onto the couch. His eyes were squeezed shut. Clare looked down at him from her perch on the windowsill. She had moved the moment Dean woke up and was now waiting, patiently, to return back to her comfortable bed.

"Dammit, Sammy," Dean groaned. "_Don't_ do that! I could've killed you!"

Sam decided to put his new tactic into motion. He hovered the tips of his fingers over the bare skin of Dean's arm. He then started tapping out his first message, being slow with each tap, distinguishing the length of one from the other, and making sure each one was clearly understandable to his brother.

**-.-. .- -. / -.- - ..- / ..- -. -.. . .-. ... - .- -. -.. / - . ..-..** (Can you understand me?)

Sam smiled when he saw Dean reopen his eyes. They were wide in recognition. Sam wanted to cry in relief as he saw Dean give a tiny smile as he tapped back his answer.

**-.- . ... -..- / -... .. - -.-. ... .-.-.- / .. / -.-. .- -. .-.-.-** (Yes, Bitch. I can.)

Sam couldn't take it anymore. He engulfed Dean in a smothering embrace and just basically broke down right there. Sam laughed and cried at the same time. It didn't surprise him when Dean started doing the same thing a few seconds later. With shaky hands, Sam quickly tapped out another message on Dean's back. Dean held still so he could decipher what his brother was trying to tell him.

**... ... ..- - / ..- .-. -..- / .- . .-. -.- .-.-.- / .. / .- - / ... .- .-. .-. -.- / - ... .- - / .. / ..-. - ..- -. -.. / ... - - . / .- .- -.- / - - / - .- .-.. -.- / - - / -.- - ..- **(Shut up, Jerk. I am happy that I found some way to talk to you.)

Dean answered back.

**-.- - ..- / .- -. -.. / - . / -... - - ... .-.-.- / .. / .- .- ... / -. . - - .. -. -. / -... - .-. . -.. / .- .. - ... / - .- .-.. -.- .. -. -. / - - / - -.- ... . .-.. ..-. .-.-.-** (You and me both. I was getting bored with talking to myself.)

At that, Sam laughed. Dean felt his brother's body vibrate against his own. It made him smile to know that he had been able to bring a smile to his brother's face. And this time, he knew why Sam was laughing. Meanwhile, Bobby and John watched silently from the doorframe, eyes filling quickly with tears and smiles forming on their faces. Things seemed to look up for them. They hoped it stayed that way.

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><p><strong>Figured I'd add in the translation so ur not left with wondering what the heck they were saying XD<strong>

**TBC! 8D**


	5. Chapter 5

**Super sorry for the wait...But here's the next chapter ^^;**

**Sequel to _"I Hate Witches"_**

**Takes place between _"Scarecrow" _and _"Faith"_**

**_Supernatural_: (C) Erik Kripke :3**

* * *

><p>Sam and Dean spent the next two hours just chatting away in Morse Code. It was a private conversation between John's sons, and despite the fact that he had been the one who taught them the code, due to all his Marine training, he found it hard to follow along and figure out what they were saying and gave up trying. Sometimes Dean would speak his answers to Sam, but for the majority of the conversation, it was Code, so John could only second-guess what they were talking about. They were tapping away so fast, it was a wonder how they even understood what the other was saying. It bewildered John. It seems his boys learned a trick or two in the time of his absence. It made his gut swell in pride.<p>

"You raised those boys well, John," Bobby told him. He sat across from him at the kitchen table. Both had clear view of the living room where Sam and Dean were. Clare had taken up refuge on Bobby's lap to resume her afternoon nap.

"I know," John sighed, staring into the swirling foam of his coffee. The white cream blended in smoothly with the hot, black liquid. It was mesmerizing to watch. "I just wish I could have raised them better, treated them more like the sons that they are. If there's one thing that those two boys have taught me since this ordeal, it's that family is everything." And he'd be damned if he ever forgot that again.

Bobby smiled softly and stroked Clare's back. She gave a pleased trill and stretched out even more so he could get access to her belly. The older hunter laughed as he obliged.

Sam entered the kitchen a few minutes later, a big grin on his face as he headed over to the counter to refill his coffee mug.

"Hey, Sam, what's with the happy-go-lucky attitude?" Bobby asked the young hunter.

He was met by an "Hmm?" as Sam prepared his coffee the way he liked it; with three sugar cubes and overloaded with too much cream.

"I asked why you're Mr. Sunshine all of a sudden," Bobby repeated.

Sam turned back to him, his coffee steaming in the white porcelain mug, and smiled a toothy grin.

"You're kidding, right?" he scoffed. He then took a sip of the bitter liquid before answering. "I'm finally able to talk to my brother in a way we both can understand each other! Now he's less depressed and he's actually _laughing_, Bobby. You can't imagine how long it's been since I last heard him laugh….as his true self." Sam added quickly just as Bobby was about to remind him that Dean was a toddler just the day before, and had laughed almost every day since the witch's curse. Sam's voice was thick with emotion and he felt his throat constrict. His eyes became watery.

Bobby looked over at John, whose face mirrored Sam's. It seemed Dean's hardship had more of an effect on him than John let on. Bobby knew where Dean got his ability to hide his emotions behind a thick wall of self-confidence and stubborn determination. It was where Dean drew most of his protective energy from that drove him to make sure his Sammy stayed safe and alive. It was his duty as a big brother to look after him. And it was John's duty to protect his own sons. So it made sense that he would feel the most guilty about all of this.

After all, Dean was blind and deaf because of _him_. He had refused to listen to Sam's warnings, and now he was paying the consequences through Dean's suffering.

"It has been a long time since I heard him laugh, too," John admitted. _"Too long…"_ he added as an afterthought. The last time Dean had laughed in his presence was during his teenage years. He thought he'd never hear it again. As he had watched Sam and Dean communicate, his heart ached when Dean's booming laughter filled the room, Sam's joining in not long after.

It reminded him of when they were younger and would secretly pass messages to each other as John was first teaching them Morse Code. Of course, they were scolded for not taking the lessons seriously, but as John looked and sounded mean on the outside, he was laughing with them on the inside. He knew his sons like he knew every exorcism in the journal he kept. Their conversations were bound to be a bit on the immature side, especially with Dean leading them.

"But don't worry," John continued, "We will find a way to get Dean's sight and hearing back. I'm not going to let that bitch win, and I'm certainly not going to sit around and watch her kill him."

"Ditto," Sam agreed with a firm nod.

"With the three of us standing guard, she won't get anywhere near Dean-"Bobby was interrupted by Clare growling in her sleep. It seemed like she was eavesdropping on them. The three hunters laughed. "Sorry, make that _four_," Bobby stroked Clare's back. Clare's mouth stretched into what Sam swore was another smile as she rolled a bit onto her side and began purring.

"But how do we kill a witch?" Sam wondered. He and Dean never came across one before, and they expected they never would. So they had no knowledge of what could harm a witch. And John seemed to acknowledge this fact by the way he was looking at him with a disappointing frown.

"You should know that, Sam. At least, you _would_ if you two would have bothered to read my entry about witch lore."

Sam was about to reply with a bitter retort when he realized that John's voice had a bit of an amused edge to it. Plus the corners of his lips were twitching. He was trying his best _not_ to smile and give away his bluff. But Sam's honed senses caught it anyways, and he chuckled, which in turn made John's face break into a smile of his own.

"Yeah, sorry, Dad. Dean and I just didn't figure we'd run into one. We just focused on the monsters that really mattered and were most often accounted for."

"It's fine, Sam. But you shouldn't brush away any information, no matter how unimportant it may be. I taught you and your brother to be ready for _anything_. And that included witches. So when we save Dean, I'm going to make you two read and memorize everything about witches that I have collected. Maybe next time Dean will learn never to mouth off to a witch."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, I doubt that-"He was cut off by a sudden, audible crack followed by a thud. The three hunters jumped nearly a foot in the air. Clare screeched and scrambled off of Bobby's leg and scurried to the living room, which was where the thud had originated from.

"DEAN!" Sam screamed, hurrying into the next room with Bobby and John in pursuit.

Dean was just attempting to pull himself up off the floor, Clare standing inches away from him. Sam's heart rate sped up when he saw blood flowing down from a slash in Dean's forehead. There were a few matching spots on the edge of the coffee table in front of Dean. It didn't take a brain suregeon to figure what had happened. Sam quickly knelt down beside Dean and grasped his shoulders. Dean flinched, but when he recognized the intruder of his personal space as his brother, he relaxed a hair.

"I'm f-fine, S-Sammy," he stuttered. "J-Just had to take a leak."

Sam ignored him and hastily tapped out "Are you okay?" with shaky hands.

Dean rolled his opaque eyes and sat back against the couch with Sam's help. "I guess you won't t-take 'I'm fine' for an answer, huh? I just stood up and then suddenly felt real dizzy. I fell, hitting something and that was when you decided to play knight in shining armor to save my damsel ass."

Sam scoffed at Dean's weak attempt to joke. As he checked the wound on Dean's head, he sternly tapped out his next message. "It's called disequilibrium, Jerk. Since there's damage to the vestibular system, you'll have more difficulties in standing or walking sometimes."

Dean grunted. "I thought you wanted to become a lawyer, not a doctor, Bitch." he muttered, thinking he said it low enough so Sam wouldn't hear. A slight cuff to the back of the head told Dean that he hadn't been quiet enough.

"Is he alright?" John asked. He and Bobby stood nearby, ready to help Sam with his stubborn brother. Sam nodded.

"Other than a moderate case of dizziness and a gash that doesn't look that bad, he's fine," Sam said, double checking the wound again. It was shallow, so it didn't require stitches. He breathed in relief. "I'll clean and disinfect it. C'mon, bro. "Sam tapped out the last sentence on Dean's shoulder before he helped him stand. Dean was still a bit wobbly, so Sam took liberty and placed his brother's left arm around his shoulders and, together, the two made their way slowly up the staircase with Clare trailing after them.

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><p><strong>TBC...<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**You know, I kinda think that the house Bobby lives in now may be one he could've bought _after_ his wife died. But I'm not sure ^^;**

**And it seems John is starting to act more like the father he should've been all these years :)**

**Also, I met the voice-actor of Dean Winchester of the _Supernatural: The Anime_ on Facebook :D His name is Andrew Farrar, but he goes by his rapper pseudonym, Annakin Slayd :) He is awesome! I love most of his songs, especially _'Loud'_, _'Feels like '93'_, and _'MTL Stand Up'_ :) I suggest u listen to him! He is amazing! And the only rapper I like XDD He is super friendly and very nice :) It was an honor meeting him! *A***

***Fangirl moment over XDD* Anyways, hope u like this. Thanx for reading and reviewing! *Glomps***

**This ep takes place between the season 1 eps _"Scarecrow"_ and _"Faith"_**

_**Supernatural**_**: Eric Kripke! :D**

* * *

><p>Bobby set about cleaning the blood off of the coffee table while John stood at the foot of the stairs, worriedly looking up at the floor above him with unease.<p>

"You just gonna stand there, or are you gonna go up anytime soon?" Bobby asked, walking past John with the blood-stained rag in his hand. He tossed it into the garbage bin before joining John's side.

"I promise ya those stairs won't bite," Bobby smirked. "Believe me, I already made sure of that when I bought the place."

John looked over at him and chuckled, shaking his head. "You always were the superstitious type."

Bobby smirked. "Hey, I take no chances. Now go. Those boys need you."

John nodded and started ascending the stairs.

**SPNSPNSPN**

John could hear Dean's complaining from his position halfway up the stairs.

"Ow! Geez, Sam! You're supposed to be _helping_ me, not _killing _me! Ow! Okay, now I know you did that on purpose! Ow! _Bitch_!"

John arrived at the doorframe just in time to see Sam tap out and speak his snarky remark. "Stop being a baby, _jerk_. I barely touched you that time."

Dean had been sat on the closed lid of the toilet as Sam kneeled before him, an open first aid kit on the sink's ledge beside them. Sam was gingerly dabbing away the excess blood with a piece of gauze and cleaning out the wound with peroxide. Dean winced and hissed from the sting of the medication, gripping the edge of the sink with one hand while his other rested on Clare's back. She was lying in his lap, offering any amount of comfort she could. She hated seeing Dean in pain, and hissed softly each time Dean yelped or groaned.

Sam just rolled his eyes, a smirk pulling at his lips. "Relax, Clare. I'm not the bad-guy here."

Clare responded with a growl and a quick swish of her tail as Dean winced again when Sam applied more to the wound, securing it with a butterfly bandage.

"There," Sam tapped on Dean's shoulder, "all done. Now that wasn't so bad, now was it?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Do I get a lollipop for being a good boy?"

Sam chuckled. "Good? You complained the whole time, bro. I don't think doctors reward stubborn children."

Dean playfully slapped Sam upside the head. Though he couldn't see or hear where his brother was, he somehow knew his exact location. "Shut up."

Sam laughed and helped Dean stand, Clare jumping down and keeping near Dean. Sam jumped as he turned towards the door, seeing John standing there. He hadn't heard him approach.

"Sorry," John said sheepishly. "Didn't mean to scare you. Dean okay?"

"Sam?" Dean questioned, puzzled as to why they suddenly stopped. His heart began to palpitate.

"It's just Dad, Dean." Sam tapped on Dean's back in a reassuring way, sensing Dean's unease. Dean let out a relieved breath. He had feared that some monster or demon was nearby and was about to attack him and his brother.

Sam then addressed John. "The gash wasn't too deep, like I said before. It seemed he managed to miss the corner of the table."

John swallowed queasily. "He missed it by a fraction of an inch."

Sam's face paled and he looked down at Dean worriedly, not realizing just how close they had come to a serious medical emergency. He felt his throat constrict and he gulped, trying to loosen it back up. He wrapped an arm protectively around Dean's waist, hooking his index and middle fingers through the first belt loop he felt, as he grabbed Dean's right arm and placed it over his shoulders, holding his wrist in a possessive grip.

Dean flinched and tried to pull away, but Sam just held on tighter. With his hands full, Sam couldn't tell Dean that he was just helping him. But it was more than that. Something Sam didn't want to tell Dean. Sam didn't want to admit that anytime he left Dean alone, he feared that he may lose him again. He didn't want to let Dean out of his sights any longer than the time it took to blink.

Sure, he had just been in the adjacent room from where his brother was resting earlier, but he was too distracted with talking to Bobby and his father to pay attention when his brother tried to make it to the bathroom. Sam then felt another realization jolt through him. If Dean hadn't fallen and had made it to the stairs, what if he had gotten struck by the disequilibrium halfway up? He could have fallen and broke his neck! Sam's face went a shade whiter.

"Sam?" John's voice was laced with concern. "Are you okay?"

"I-I'm fine, Dad," Sam replied almost monotonously.

"Sam..." John said with a warning tone. It was translation for _'Don't you dare lie to me, or I wi__ll beat your ass.'_

Sam sighed as he started helping Dean, who grumbled all the way, out of the bathroom and towards the room the two shared at the end of the hallway. "I was just thinking, is all."

"About what?" John gently pressed.

"Dean could've died today," Sam responded quietly.

John's eyes widened. "Sam, even if he did hit the corner, I'm sure he wouldn't have died."

"I'm not talking about that!" Sam snapped.

He stumbled as he lost concentration, causing Dean to yelp in surprise. Sam quickly regained his footing and hoisted his brother up further. He tapped his apology quickly as Dean growled at him.

"Jeez, Sam, I've always known you had two left feet!"

Sam rolled his eyes, obviously too upset to crack a smile at his brother's teasing.

Apparently, John wasn't in the mood for games either. He fixed his younger son with a stern glare.

"Sam, what the hell are you talking about? How else could Dean have almost died?"

Sam waited to answer, biting his lower lip as he realized that there was no way of backing out now, till they reached the guest room. He maneuvered Dean over to one of the two beds that occupied the far wall and gently deposited him on the clean linen sheets. He tapped Dean's shoulder, telling him to lie down and rest for a bit to allow him to sleep off the disequilibrium and allow time for his wound to heal properly.

Dean all but grumbled his protests as he was forced to lie back. He then turned onto his side and snuggled into the pillow. Sam smiled softly and pulled the blanket up to his big brother's chin, smoothing it around him.

"You dare tuck me in, and I will smother you in your sleep," Dean mumbled sleepily, making Sam chortle.

"Whatever, you say, Jerk." He gently tapped on Dean's forehead.

As Dean's pale eyes slowly drifted shut, he uttered, "Bitch" before succumbing to his fatigue. Clare meowed and jumped on the bed, making her way up to the head of the bed and lying down right beside Dean, closing her eyes.

Sam stood up straight, wanting to stay with his brother longer. But he knew that John wasn't finished with him just yet. He could feel his eyes boring into the back of his skull.

"I'll be right back, big brother," Sam whispered, his hand ghosting over Dean's forehead. He then sighed and turned back to his waiting father, who was leaning in the doorway. Sam stepped out of the room, closing the door as quietly as he could, knowing there really was no point. But it just had been a habit of his. If he had been the first one up, he had always been as quiet as he could so he wouldn't disturb his still slumbering sibling.

John crossed his arms and waited for Sam to begin explaining himself.

So Sam took a deep breath. "What if Dean was able to get to the stairs?" he said quietly.

John's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, forcing Sam to continue on with unease, feeling queasy the more he thought about it. "Dean could've been halfway up the stairs when the disequilibrium hit him. What if it had?"

Realization sparked in John's eyes. His expression softened. "Is this what you've been worried about?"

Sam looked down at the ground, scuffing the dusty hardwood floor with the toe of his shoe, before he looked back up at his father, tears in his eyes. He nodded.

"Sam," John sighed and suddenly wrapped his arms around his youngest son's shoulders. Sam accepted this rare show of affection and wrapped his own arms around his father's back and began sobbing.

"I c-can't go on like this, D-Dad!" Sam hiccupped through his tears.

"Shh, Sammy, it's okay," John whispered, stroking the back of Sam's head to comfort him.

"That witch almost k-killed him once...then that demon tried to. And now he nearly cracked his head open. A-and even if he hadn't done that, he could've fallen down the stairs and broke his neck!" Sam clung tighter to his father's jacket. "That's one too many times I nearly lost him!"

"But Sam, Dean's alive because all those times there was someone to save him." John tried to gently explain. But he was cut off as Sam pushed himself away to glare at him. John felt a chill run up his spine at the fury that suddenly flared in the young hunter's eyes.

"Yeah! But what if next time there's no one to save him? Like I said before, he's too vulnerable in his current condition. We can't afford to let him out of our sights anymore."

"Sam," John wanted to say more, but he thought arguing with his son would just fuel his anger. Besides, they had fought too much already. The last time they had really gotten into it, it forced Sam to storm out to live a new life. And he really didn't want that to happen again. So instead he smiled. "You're right, Sammy."

Sam's eyes widened. Did his father just _agree_ with him? He couldn't believe it.

"Christo," Sam said, watching his father closely for any signs of demonic possession.

John just laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Shut up, I'm not possessed."

Sam laughed, his anger melting away. "Just had to be sure."

John gave his son's shoulder a firm squeeze. "You look beat, too, Sam. You should go and get some rest as well. I'm sure you and Dean earned yourselves a few good hours."

Sam was about to protest, that he needed to stay awake so he could look after Dean, but a yawn interrupted him. John smirked.

"Alright, Dad. You're right. We'll catch some rest and figure out what to do tomorrow, okay?"

John nodded. "We will save Dean and get him back to his smart-ass self, don't you worry."

Sam smiled and yawned again, turning to the door and opening it. "Night, Dad."

"Night, Sammy."

Sam then shut the door gently. John could hear him moving around inside. He didn't need X-Ray vision to know that Sam was first checking on Dean, staying near him for a few minutes. John then heard the squeak of a bedspring as Sam finally sat down on his bed. He heard Sam stretch and lay back. Soon after, a pair of soft snores emanated through the aging wood of the door. John's eyes filled with tears as he placed a hand on the door.

"I never forgot that you two were my sons, and I'll make sure that I won't ever do so."

John then stepped away and headed back downstairs.

* * *

><p><strong>TBC...<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**This chapter kinda got away from me...so sowwy about the length of it ^^;**

**Also...SUPER sorry that this hasn't been updated in AGES...these past few weeks were killing me and I had no motivation to write more :( But I'll try to keep this story going!**

**This ep takes place between the season 1 eps _"Scarecrow"_ and _"Faith"_**

_**Supernatural**_**: Eric Kripke! :D**

* * *

><p>Dean awoke in the middle of the night with a full bladder and knew that he really needed to get to the bathroom or risk soiling the bedclothes. So, as gingerly as he could so he wouldn't awaken Sam or Clare, he pushed back the blanket and sheet and swung his legs over the edge. He sat there, waiting for a few seconds to determine if he could hold it enough to stand and head into the bathroom down the hall. Once he was sure, he stood up.<p>

Following the knowledge of remembering the layout of the room due to his and Sam's excessive stays at Bobby's, he knew the room like the back of his hand and was able to make it to the door in just a few quiet strides. He opened the door and slipped out into the hall. Dean then turned left, using his right hand to feel his way down. He had earlier counted the number of steps it took to reach the bathroom so he knew which doorway to enter. Sure enough, once he felt the porcelain sink, he knew he was in the right room and he shut the door to do his business.

Meanwhile, Sam awoke, feeling the absence of his big brother. He quickly sat up and looked around frantically.

"Dean?" he called, then rolled his eyes at his stupidity of forgetting about Dean being deaf. He got out of bed and strode towards the door. Clare was awoken by him exiting and immediately jumped up to follow him.

Sam's heart pounded in worry as he continued down the hallway, noticing a light coming out from under one of the doorways. It was the bathroom. Sam stopped outside of it, Clare coming up behind him and rubbing her side against his leg and letting out a small mew.

It was obvious that she was worried too. Sam had no idea how long Dean had been in there or if he was in trouble. He knew he was overreacting, but he tended to do so when the one person in his life that truly mattered to him was extremely vulnerable and prone to danger. He didn't want to take any chances.

Knowing it was futile to knock and that he was about to seriously impose on Dean's dignity and probably scar himself for life, he twisted the knob, relieved to find it unlocked, and opened it to reveal his perfectly healthy big brother standing at the sink, washing his hands, humming happily to himself, a smile on his face, and a sparkle in his opaque eyes. Sam was at a loss for words, unsure of why Dean was feeling this happy at such an hour. Clare meowed and jumped up onto the edge of the sink, sitting down and rubbing her head against Dean's arm. Dean froze, the smile disappearing for a second as he determined what was, but soon reappearing as he stroked Clare's cheek with his finger. The feline couldn't care less if his hands were still soaking wet. She just meowed again and leaned into the touch, pausing now and then to lap up the drips of water from Dean's fingertips.

Dean chuckled as he felt the soft yet sandpaper-like texture of her tongue.

"What's the matter, sweetie? Couldn't sleep either?" Dean chuckled. He turned off the tap, grabbed the hand towel and dried off his hands. Sam decided to make his presence known then by reaching out and tapping Dean's shoulder as he moved forward. Dean gasped and jumped back, startled. He leaned on the sink with one hand as he place the other over his palpitating heart.

"Dammit! Nice job giving me a heart attack, Sam!" he growled.

"Sorry," Sam said while gently tapping his brother's hand. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just, don't do that. I had no idea you were there." Dean seemed to contemplate what he just said and his face darkened. He lowered his head and ambled past Sam and out into the hallway, following the wall back to their room.

Sam hastily ran after him, now determined to get his brother out of his funk. Once he got to the doorway, he saw that Dean was just sitting on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the floor with a distant look. Sam sat down next to him but before he could ask him if he was okay, Dean spoke, but in a low, whisper-like tone. Sam had to lean in a bit to catch what he said, and what he heard made his eyes widen in shock.

"Sammy, I'm not sure if I can go on like this,"

"Dean, what the Hell are you talking about?" Sam asked, tapping on his shoulder. "You've been handling this very well so far! Why are you just now saying this? Did you hit your head harder than I thought?"

Out of subconsciousness, Sam eased away the bandage on Dean's forehead and was relieved to see that the wound was healing up nicely. He felt another wave of nausea flood through him as he once again recollected on the fear of just how close Dean came to a severe injury. But he quickly swallowed it down. It was his turn to be the caring, protective brother, and he had to be strong.

Dean never showed weakness, at least not when Sam was around. He was always the protector and the one who was always there when Sam was down. And even though Dean was blind and deaf, he would still be able to sense his little brother's angst. It was some sort of weird psychic connection the brothers had that allowed one to feel when the other was in distress or in danger.

Dean never quite understood it, but he knew that without that connection, he'd lose the only thing that kept him from losing his only remaining family member that he truly cared about. And now with him being blind and deaf, his worry about that connection being severed was raised a few more notches. Anything could happen to his family and he wouldn't have a clue. He had done a nice job at playing charades for the past few days, making his family believe that he was handling things well. But in reality, he was ready to freak out. He wasn't sure if he could deal with his disabilities any longer than he had to.

Dean realized that he had been lost in his thoughts for a while now, because when he came back to reality, he felt Sam repeatedly tapping his shoulder frantically. It was quite obvious that he was worried. He then felt something small, warm, and furry climbing onto his lap. Two paws pressed against his chest as he felt two more balancing on his thighs. He huffed out a laugh and began stroking Clare's back, liking the fact that her little bottom rose as he petted over that area.

"Dean?" he felt Sam tap on his shoulder.

Dean sighed and figured he should start talking as to not worry his baby brother any longer.

"I'm fine, Sammy," he grumbled, pushing away Sam's other hand from his forehead.

Sam scoffed, glad Dean couldn't hear him.

"And don't scoff at me."

Okay, maybe Dean wasn't as clueless as he pretended to be.

"Sorry."

Another bout of awkward silence fell upon the room. The only sounds to be heard was Clare's purring as Dean continued to stroke her back, the crickets outside chirping, and the occasional cough or snore from either Bobby or John downstairs.

After a while, Dean took a deep breath and let it out slowly, racking his thoughts together. But before he could speak, Sam beat him to it and paid close attention to the message Sam was tapping out on his shoulder.

"What do you mean you can't go on like this?"

Dean turned his head so to where he hoped Sam was facing.

"You, Dad, and Bobby should be out there chasing this bitch down and then going after the Yellow-Eyed bastard. Instead you're wasting time looking after my sorry ass. In fact, it's my own damn fault we're in this mess. I was foolish to get nabbed by the first damn witch in the first place and now another one is after us all. I wish she would've just killed me. It would've saved you guys the trouble."

"Dean," Sam gasped, stunned at how low of an opinion Dean had of himself.

"What?" Dean scoffed, shrugging. "It's true! We just get out of that Godforsaken town with the crazy lunatics and their damn scarecrow only to wind up screwed to Hell yet again, all because of my recklessness and stupidity."

"Dean!" Sam harshly smacked his brother's shoulder to get him to stop rambling on about such nonsense. "Stop saying idiotic stuff like that! You are _not _stupid! Reckless, sure, but not stupid!"

"Gee, thanks Sammy," Dean rolled his eyes. Sam did the same thing and shook his head.

"I mean it, Dean. Dad already said he'd do anything and everything to help you. You _will_ get your eyes and ears back! And you're doing perfectly fine without them at the moment. Other than the equilibrium, I'd say you're perfectly normal…or as normal as you can be." Sam added as a small joke.

He smiled as a grin found its way onto Dean's face. The older hunter shoved his shoulder gently, causing Sam to rock to the side and back, purposely bumping back into Dean, knocking him down on his side on the mattress.

"Oh, that's it, princess, you're dead!" Dean growled in mock anger, but the smile on his face gave him away as he pounced at Sam.

Sam quickly moved out of the way and grinned as Dean landed on the bed instead. Dean smiled and stood up, standing in a fighting stance, Sam mirroring him. Sam was confident that he'd have the unfair advantage, knowing it was wrong for him to think that he'd win due to Dean's predicament, but the older hunter didn't seem to mind as he launched a well-aimed kick towards Sam's torso. But Sam effectively blocked it and knocked him back onto the mattress. But Dean was fast. Before Sam knew it, he was trapped in a head lock as his big brother used his free hand to give him a playful noogie while Sam grasped his arm and tried to pry him off, smiling and laughing. Clare meowed and leaped to safety on top of the nearby nightstand and watched as the brothers behaved like children, a deep fondness in her golden eyes.

Sam laughed as he fought to gain control. He and Dean used to play wrestle a lot when they were younger. It had helped them keep in tip-top shape and prepare for any surprise attacks, so they'd know how to get out of a hustle. And it had worked well many times. Sam managed to get out of the headlock and shoved Dean down onto his stomach, pinning both arms to his back, holding Dean's legs down by wrapping his own around them, and sitting on his back, effectively immobilizing him, but being careful as to not to hurt him too much. Dean's face was mushed against the pillow.

"Ungh! Good one, little brother!" Dean grunted, attempting to squirm away, but Sam had him good. He felt proud. He had been the one who taught Sam this move, after all.

"I learned from the best, big brother," Sam released one arm to pat Dean's head.

Bad move. Now Dean was able to grab hold of the same arm and somehow twist out of Sam's hold-who knew he was _that_ flexible- then get one of his legs free and use it to push himself up as he brought Sam down onto the mattress, proceeding to hold him in the exact same position he had just been in moments before.

"Hah!" Dean cheered triumphantly. Even blind and deaf, he still managed to kick his brother's ass.

"Truce!" Sam's words were muffled by the pillow. But it didn't matter anyways, Dean wouldn't hear them anyways, and he felt a pang of guilt for forgetting that.

But Dean's big brother instincts told him that Sam was giving up, letting him win yet again. He jumped off of his brother and sat down beside him and Sam recomposed himself and sat next to him, panting as if he'd ran a mile. He noticed Dean was doing the same thing. A sheen of sweat coated his face and neck.

"You okay?" Sam tapped Dean's arm gently, fixing him with worried puppy eyes.

Dean looked up at him and just smiled, his opaque gaze fixated on where he knew his little brother's face was. "Yeah..." he gasped between breaths. "It's….just….it's been….awhile….since we…..sparred….like that."

Sam laughed and silently agreed with him. It _had_ been a long time. Nine months to be exact, but the last time he sparred with Dean, it had really been a shape-shifter, so it didn't really count. No, the last _true_ time had been when Dean had broken into his and Jess' apartment, right before Dean had dropped the bombshell that their father was missing and he needed help searching for him. Since then, they'd been too busy doing just that to have a good sparring session,

Sam was happy he was able to practice once again with his big brother. It made him feel a lot closer. Suddenly, the door burst open, and Sam immediately jumped up to stand protectively in front of his brother to shield him from whatever harm dared to impose on them. His tense form relaxed as he recognized their bedraggled father who had just came through the doorway, wielding a Bowie knife in one hand and a sawed-off in the other. Sam had to laugh upon seeing John's disheveled hair and remnants of sleep in his eyes, which were wide with alertness.

"Sam?" John questioned, taking a glance around the room cautiously.

"Morning to you too, Dad," Sam chuckled. He then sat back down to let his worried brother know what was going on. Sam must have told him about their father's epic entrance and appearance because the next moment, Dean was on his back laughing.

John relaxed, seeing no harm to his boys and lowered his weapons and smiled. "Damn, it, boys. Do you have any idea what time it is? I woke up to what sounded like a stampede of elephants rampaging up here. What the hell happened?"

"Sorry, Dad," Sam replied soon after Dean stopped laughing. He was still chuckling, but managed to get himself back under control. "Dean and I were just sparring."

John fixed them both with an incredulous look. "Sparring? At _this_ hour? _Why?_"

"Yeah, that was my fault. I just started to playfully shove him and things sort of escalated from there."

John shook his head, but Sam saw a ghost of a smile on his face.

"Well, next time you feel like duking it out, wait till tomorrow at least."

Sam smirked. "But, Dad. It is tomorrow."

John looked up at him and chuckled. "Smart ass, you know what I mean. Anyways, now that I know you two knuckleheads are safe, I'm going back to bed. I'm surprised Bobby hasn't been awoken by the ruckus."

Sam shook his head. "Night, Dad." He then told Dean that John was about to leave so Dean bid him good-night as well.

John gave his sons one last look and a warm smile before shutting the door and returning downstairs, where he slept on the couch. Dean then yawned wide.

"Right, bedtime, big-brother," Sam said as he gently helped Dean back under the covers of his bed. He laid him down and made sure his pillows were fluffed and prepped.

"You gonna read me a bedtime story, too, Bitch?" Dean smirked as Sam pulled the covers up to his chin.

"Yeah right, Jerk. In your dreams." Sam replied fondly. He watched as Clare jumped down from the nightstand and lay back down beside Dean. He smiled as he saw his big brother wrap an arm around her tiny body.

Dean yawned again and turned onto his side, his back facing Sam as he allowed the grasps of slumber to overtake him. "Ni', S'mmy,"

"Good-night Dean,"

Sam then turned out the light and crawled back into his own bed, joining his sibling in Dreamverse.

Outside the window, a lone raven with electric-blue eyes that glistened and glowed in the dark night cawed loudly before taking flight.

* * *

><p><strong>I just had to throw in some sort of sweet and brotherly moment 83 Read and review pweeze!<strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**=O 2012 already? Seriously? Wow o-o last year went by FAST! HAPPY *belated* NEW YEARS! 8'D Lolz...anyways...here's the new chapter :)**

**8D NEW EPS OF SUPERNATURAL BEGINS 2NITE! oAo FINALLY! I cannot wait! X3 *Then again, I know it's gonna be super sad ;w;* **

**But I'm stoked for next week's ep especially owo I'm really curious to know who this "old friend" of Sammy's is gonna be O-o**

**And I hadn't realized I had made a tiny mistake till I was re-reading this story. In an earlier chapter, Sam asks how they would kill a witch...when he'd basically already knew how since he stabbed one in the prequel ._.; I'm so sorry for not catching that sooner...I tend to 4get details. I try not to QwQ Now I feel bad...so if anyone sees anymore mistakes of any kind...please let me know D: **

**But I still hope you enjoy this, no matter what :) I love writing it! X3**

**And thank y'all for ur awesome reviews! X3 They mean a lot!**

**This ep takes place between the season 1 eps _"Scarecrow"_ and _"Faith"_**

_**Supernatural**_**: Eric Kripke! :D**

* * *

><p>Sam opened the fridge to grab the milk for his cereal and noticed that they were running low. In fact, the entire kitchen looked like it needed restocked. He decided that a trip to the store later was in order. The young hunter had awoken before everyone else, once again brutally awoken by a disturbing nightmare of Jessica. He had tried to go back to sleep, but found it futile. Usually Dean was there to comfort him and somehow ease him back into a slumber, but since he was deaf, he wasn't able to hear the distress of Sam's nightly plague, so he was left to try and deal with it on his own. He knew it was silly of him. He was 23 years old and still needed the comfort only his big brother could give him. But he didn't care, he loved Dean as much as Dean loved him. Nothing anyone could say or do would break them apart. And they'd rip apart anyone who dared to try.<p>

Sam smiled fondly as he recalled all the times Dean had always been there to save and protect him, whether from bullies or demons. Soon enough, the horrible nightmare that kept him up for nearly two hours was slowly beginning to diminish. Sam heard gentle, tender footfalls on the steps and stepped out of the kitchen and smiled sadly as he worriedly watched a haggard Dean carefully making his way down the stairs, both hands gripping the railing tightly as he gingerly felt for the steps so that he didn't fall. Clare was trailing behind him, patiently waiting for him to make a successful descend on each step before she followed. She was looking up at Dean with big green eyes. Sam chuckled and moved to help Dean the rest of the way.

Dean flinched when he felt a hand wrap around his right wrist.

"It's just me," Sam tapped gently. Dean breathed a breath of relief and allowed Sam to guide him the rest of the way and into the kitchen where he was sat in one of the kitchen chairs. Clare hopped up onto Dean's lap and sat down, purring as Dean began to stroke her back.

"You hungry?" Sam asked, moving a chair closer to his big brother before sitting down.

"A little," Dean replied, wincing. He had one hell of a headache. It was what had finally gotten him out of bed. He had just been heading downstairs to get him some painkillers when his little brother arrived. Sam noticed the wince and frowned.

"You okay?"

"I just have the headache from Hell," Dean groaned as a sharp pain lanced behind his eyes.

Sam immediately stood up and ran to the medicine cabinet in the library. He felt a pang of guilt as he heard the panicked, worried voice of Dean calling out for him. He quickly grabbed the Ibuprofen and rushed back just as Dean was starting to rise from the chair.

"Sshh, it's okay, I'm here," Sam tapped on Dean's shoulder before laying his hand on it. He then opened the pill bottle with the other hand, shook out two pills, and pressed them into Dean's palm. "Take these. They're Ibuprofen," he added quickly, seeing Dean's worried look.

Sam remembered how loopy Dean got with medicine, but he figured that the pills were harmless and wouldn't make him disoriented. At least, he hoped they wouldn't. Dean sighed and nodded before popping them into his mouth, grimacing at the bitter taste. Sam chuckled and stood to get him a glass of water, which Dean gulped down and nodded his thanks to Sam.

"You'd make a great nurse, Sammy," he said, throwing his little brother a snarky smirk, making Sam roll his eyes. "Cute little mini-skirt and low-cut top…."

"Dude…" Sam cut him off with a rough tap on the head. "That's _your _kind of nurse you're envisioning me as, and it's kinda creeping me out, dude."

"Ah, you're just jealous you won't be able to pull off the look, Samantha," Dean continued to tease.

Sam laughed. "Shut up, _Deanna_."

Dean scoffed. "Deanna? Really? _That's _your best comeback? Man, that's weak, dude! Bush league!"

Sam shook his head, happy that they were reliving another childhood pastime.

John and Bobby entered the kitchen, both smiling as they saw the boys up and laughing. Sam looked up and let Dean know who had come in.

"Hey, you two," Bobby greeted, heading over to the coffee maker. A fresh brew was waiting for him. Sam had made it fifteen minutes ago. "How'd you two sleep?"

"Like a baby, what about you, gramps?" Dean responded after Sam told him what Bobby asked.

Bobby mock-glared at him and whacked him upside the head.

"Tell your brother I would've slept fine if two idjits hadn't decided to play wrestling at 3 am."

"Aw, c'mon, Bobby," Sam protested, smiling. "It was 12 am!"

"What's the difference?"

"Apparently none since either way you didn't get the beauty sleep you really need."

"Watch it, boy," Bobby pointed a finger at Sam. "I may be older than you, but I still can kick your ass nine ways from Sunday!"

"Better listen to him, Sammy," John said from his seat across from his sons. "He's telling the truth."

"No way, I can so take him," Sam said. He was tapping out everything that everyone was saying on Dean's shoulder so he wouldn't be left out in the conversation.

"You two are morons," Dean scoffed. "I can take you _both_ with my hands tied behind my back _and_ without blinking!"

The four men then laughed aloud. None of them has ever felt this way before. It was a great feeling.

"Oh, um, by the way, you're running low on milk and other stuff," Sam told Bobby as the older hunter went to the fridge to grab the jug for his coffee.

"Ah, I know. I've been meaning to run to the store, but what with Dean's, err, incident, I've completely forgot about it."

"No worries, I was about to ask if you wanted me to go." Sam said.

"How about I go instead?" John suggested. The two other men looked over at him questioningly. "What? It's the least I could do. Dean could come with me."

"Hell no," the dark gleam in Sam's eyes returned as he grasped Dean's wrist protectively.

"Whoa, Sammy. At least buy me dinner first," Dean quipped.

Sam ignored him. "That witch is still gunning after Dean, there's no way I'm letting him out of my sight."

John rolled his eyes. "But you had last night, and Dean could've been snatched then."

Sam's grip tightened as this dawned on him. But he couldn't let his father win this argument. "You don't have anything to stave off the witch."

"Then let me borrow the knife you used to kill the first witch."

_Damn_.

"Who knows if it'll kill this witch, Dad! She could be more powerful! How could we be sure that the knife will kill her?"

"Well we won't know till we try, now won't we?"

_Damn it__,__ again!_

Sam tried to come up with more points, but found his mind blank. John sneered.

"Sam, don't you think you're being a little too overprotective?"

Sam looked up at him incredulously. "Is that some kind of trick question? Of course I am! That bitch is after Dean and I'm not going to let him go anywhere without me!"

"Sam, I think I'm perfectly capable of taking care of my own son," John growled.

"Oh really? Then where we you for the past 27 years?"

John fell silent. Bobby looked nervously between the two Winchesters. Dean sat quietly, trying not to freak out since he had no idea what was going on.

John stood up, as did Sam.

"Sam, c'mon, I know I haven't exactly been the best father to you two, but I'm trying to make amends here. Just let me take Dean with me so he and I can spend some quality father-son time together, okay?"

Sam bit his lip apprehensively and looked down at his big brother with worried eyes. He knew he was going to regret this decision later, but maybe John was right. Dean could probably need some father-son bonding time. He sure deserved it and John owed him big time.

"Fine, but you better keep a close eye on him, or so help me I will kick your ass into next week." Sam said with a stern glare and truthful tone.

John rolled his eyes. "I get it, Sammy." He then walked over to Dean and set a hand on his shoulder. Dean jumped but relaxed when John tapped that it was just him.

John helped him stand.

"Where are we going?" Dean asked, looking fearful. Sam felt his gut clench and he stepped forward to tap his answer on Dean's shoulder.

"Dad is going to take you to the store with him to grab some groceries for Bobby. Are you going to be okay?"

Dean took a shaky breath before nodding. "Yeah. I uh, I think I will. I mean, Dad's a lot like you. I'm…sure I'll be fine."

Sam didn't miss the hesitation in his brother's response. "If you don't want to go, that's fine."

"No, no, it's okay. I swear," Dean persisted, shaking his head. "I'll be fine. I mean, I really need to get out. I've been cooped up for so long, I think I was beginning to develop agoraphobia. Fresh air will do me some good. I'll be find, Sammy. Don't worry."

"Dean," Sam said, smirking softly. "First of all, you're rambling, which you only do when you're really nervous. Secondly, if you're _sure_ you're alright, then go ahead. But _please_ be careful!"

Dean smiled and clasped Sam's shoulder. "Thanks, Samantha, glad to know you care."

"Shut up Jerk," Sam smiled, knocking away Dean's hand. "I'm serious."

"I know, Bitch. And I will. Promise!"

Few minutes later, Sam watched cautiously, biting his thumbnail, as Dean and John got into the Impala and drove out of the yard. Bobby came up behind him and placed a comforting hand upon his shoulder.

"Sam, they'll be fine. Your daddy is a good man, and he'd be damned if anything happened to Dean under his watch."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Sam sighed. The two then went back inside.

Meanwhile, the blue-eyed raven from the night before left its perch from Bobby's roof and swiftly followed the big black car on silent wings.

_"Soon, I will have my revenge. I'm so close, dear Sister. He will pay."_

_**SPNSPNSPN**_

They reached Wal-Mart an hour later and John pulled into the closest handicapped parking spot nearest the entrance before getting out and opening the passenger side door to help Dean out.

"You ready, sport?" John asked, forgetting about Dean being unable to hear him. He cursed under his breath. Great way to start this bonding moment. He tapped his question out on Dean's shoulder, and Dean nodded. They headed inside, unaware of a hooded, cloaked figure silently following them, disappearing just before entering the door.

_**SPNSPNSPN**_

"Okay, I think we're done here," John told Dean. They were in the frozen food aisle. Dean had his hands in his pocket and he was shivering.

"G-good," he chattered. "C-can w-we p-p-please g-get out of A-Anarti-tica, n-now?"

John laughed and placed a hand on his shoulder, grabbing the cart with the other hand and maneuvered them out of that aisle. "We're going to stop in the cereal section then we're done. Do you want anything?"

Dean looked at him with what he hoped was a pleading face complete with pouty lips and puppy-dog eyes, despite them being milky-white.

"Peanut M&Ms?" he suggested in a tiny voice, trying to make himself sound cute.

John laughed and led him into the sweets aisle and grabbed two large bags of the preferred candy for him and placed them into the cart.

"There, but don't blame me if you get cavities." John tapped Dean's shoulder before turning around and pushing the cart away, momentarily forgetting that Dean couldn't hear or see him moving away. John wasn't paying attention to whether or not Dean was following him. He should have.

Dean had no idea his father had left him, and by the time he did, he was beginning to panic. His breathing quickened as he held his hands out, touching each side of the aisle and began moving forward tentatively, calling for his father with a scared, shaky voice. Someone grasped his right arm a minute later and Dean gasped, jumping nearly a foot in the air. But he recognized the firm grasp of his father and let out a breath of relief.

"Dammit, Dad! Don't leave me like that again! Sammy would kill you if you lost me in Wal-Mart!" He meant it as a joke, but when his father didn't acknowledge it, he began to feel worried.

"Uh, Dad? You okay?"

But he received no answer, just a harsh tug as his father literally began dragging him down the aisle.

"Ow! Dad! Stop! Let me catch up! And ow! Dammit! Let off the vice grip, will ya?"

He remained being ignored, wondering what all of this must look like to the other patrons of the store. Apparently everyone had no soul because no one stepped up to John to tell him to be gentle with his handicapped son.

A few minutes later, Dean began to feel cool air on his skin and a bit of an earthly smell. They must be somewhere near or in the gardening area of the store. But why the Hell were they back here?

"Does Bobby need some more angelica root or sage?" Dean tried asking, but once again was ignored. "Dad!"

Suddenly, they stopped and Dean stumbled, falling onto his hands and knees, the stank of fertilized flowers filling his nostrils. He sneezed twice, hoping that he wasn't allergic to anything in here. That'd be just his luck; being allergic to some pansy plants.

"A little help here?" He reached out a hand, but John didn't move to help him.

Instead, he felt a small hand with slender fingers press onto his forehead. Wait a minute, those weren't the hands of his father's. But before Dean could do anything to ward off the newcomer, a flash of pain seared through his brain and he collapsed, unconscious onto the ground.

"At last….I have you in my grasps. You will pay with your life, mortal." a cold, feminine voice sneered.

The witch stood up and looked around, smiling maliciously. Everyone around her was frozen in time, looking like mere statues. She then looked back down at the unconscious hunter.

"And this time…no one will be able to save you."

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><p><strong>Sammy's gonna be ticked :3<strong>


	9. Chapter 9

**Yay! Finally got a new chapter typed up...super sorry to my fellow Supernaturalists for the wait ^^;**

**With more time on my hands, u'd think I'd be able to type more sooner, huh? Yeah, well I would if I didn't get distracted so easily :P Plus I procrastinate, so that's another reason...but I'll try updating sooner ^^; **

**BTW...if any of u are on deviantART, feel free to look me up :) I'm DITTOFAN04 ^^**

**I'm also TheBigChillQueen on YouTube as well :)**

**This ep takes place between the season 1 eps _"Scarecrow"_ and _"Faith"_**

_**Supernatural**_**: Eric Kripke! :D**

* * *

><p>When John recovered from whatever had happened to him, he felt a bit dizzy and disoriented. He realized he was standing in the middle of the walkway and looked around, noticing that the other patrons looked about the same way he felt as they slowly stood up, holding onto shelves and aisles to balance themselves.<p>

"Huh," he mused. "What the hell? Dean, do you-"

John froze when he turned around and didn't see Dean behind him. His heart raced as he hurried back to the sweets aisle. He felt a sinking feeling in his gut when he saw that Dean wasn't even there anymore.

"Dean!" John cried, forgetting about his cart of groceries as he hurried throughout the entire store in desperate search for his son. But he saw no sign of him. One of the Wal-Mart personnel came up to him after receiving notices about a frantic man running through the store, calling out for his kid.

"Excuse me, sir. Do you need help?" the elderly woman asked him in a sweet, caring voice. John looked down at her with red, puffy eyes. He looked a bit confused, as if he couldn't figure out why she was there. But he quickly recovered and shook his head.

"My son is missing, I need to find him!"

"Oh dear. Well don't worry, sir. Children get lost in here all the time, it's nothing-"

"IT IS NOT NOTHING!" John yelled out of sheer panic and worry. "My son is deaf and blind, and it's all my fault! He may be 27 years old, but he can't take care of himself in his predicament! Now he's gone and I'm the one who's going to have to tell his little brother that I failed to do the one thing he's asked me to do! Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go."

John then turned his back on the startled woman and stormed out of the store, forgetting about his purchases and jumped into the Impala. As he started the engine, he began to think how he was going to break the news to an overprotective son and an old hunter who had a weapon of some sorts within reach at all time.

_**SPNSPNSPN**_

Sam glanced out the window for about the millionth time for the past hour and a half, looking out for any sign of his brother's beloved Impala. He sighed in frustrated anxiety and checked his watch for the umpteenth time then returned his gaze back to the window. Even Clare seemed agitated. She sat ramrod straight on the windowsill, staring unblinkingly outside with wide, green eyes. Her tail swished back and forth, the tip twitching now and then. Any movement that caught her attention caused her to quickly snap her head in that direction. She growled impatiently a few times.

Sam chuckled and scratched her back, which caused her to chirrup but remain attentive.

"I know how you feel, sweetie," Sam sighed and jumped as a hand fell upon his shoulder. He looked up at Bobby who was grinning down at him.

"You plan on staying there all day?" Bobby asked jokingly, moving to sit down on the couch beside Sam.

"Just until Dean and Dad get back," Sam responded with a nervous glance back outside.

"Sam, you've been sitting there since they left. Don't you think you're a littIe, I don't know, paranoid?"

"I'm sorry, Bobby, I can't help it. That witch is out there, Dean is too vulnerable, and I don't really trust Dad to keep his promise."

"Sam, as much as I'd love to agree with you, your daddy seems to have really turned over a new leaf since Dean's incident. I think he really is bearing the guilt of causing it."

Sam scoffed. "He should be."

"Your father is trying his best to fix this. He'd be damned if anything got in his way."

Sam's face softened as Bobby's words sunk in. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Bobby. It's just….Dean's my big brother. He's looked after me for all his life and I really want to return the favor to him. It's my turn to be the protector, and I'm not going to let him down."

Bobby opened his mouth to reply when a throaty rumble made them look back out the window in time to see the Impala rolling in. Clare meowed and stood up. She jumped down from the windowsill and made a beeline for the door where she plopped down, staring at the door expectantly.

Sam and Bobby got up and headed in the same direction. Sam was the first out of the door when he opened it, followed closely by Clare and then Bobby. They all stopped five feet from the Impala. Sam's heart began racing as he saw that Dean was not sitting in the passenger seat. Only John was sitting up front.

_"Maybe Dean'__s lying in the back…."_ Sam thought hopefully, unable to suppress the nauseous feeling in his stomach. _"And why is Dad just sitting there?"_ Upon closer inspection, Sam could see that John was fidgeting, as if he was hiding something. Sam felt himself growing hot with anger, but had to repress himself from blowing up till he knew what was going on.

John eventually looked up at the three of them and sighed. It was time to face the music. He got out hesitantly and stood up, his back facing Sam, Bobby, and Clare. He took in a deep and shaky breath. He wasn't ready to face the blunt of their wrath once he told them what happened. But he had no choice as Sam spoke up.

"Dad, where's Dean" Sam said in his _You-better-tell-me-now-or-so-help-me_ tone that told John that he better start talking before things got ugly.

"Sam, listen, before I tell you, you have to remain calm," John began, turning around.

His heart felt like it was in a vice grip after seeing Sam's face morph from deadly calm to full-blown panic mode. Before he could stop him, Sam launched himself at the Impala and ripped open the back door, it's hinges squealing from the harsh treatment. Sam's breath caught in his throat as he saw that it was empty. His heart was hammering like crazy now as he glared up at John, his nostrils flaring in anger.

"Dad?" he hissed through clenched teeth. "Where the hell is Dean? Why isn't he with you?"

"Sammy…" John really didn't want to get into it with his youngest, but it was too late. He was trapped in the ring of Sam's fury.

"No! Don't even try and make up an excuse about how you tried to keep him safe," Sam seethed, brushing aside whatever his father was about to say. "You apparently didn't do a good enough job. Hell, I leave you with one simple task of looking after Dean, and you failed to do that! I _trusted_ you, you bastard! I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, but you went and blew that! Now that damn witch has Dean and we have no way of finding out where the hell she took him! Thank you, very much, Dad."

By the end of Sam's rant, he was left breathless, red in the face, and trembling with a combination of fear and worry.

"Look, Sam, I'm sorry, I really am!" John said, trying to control the anger that was slowly bubbling inside of him. He really wanted to scream at his son, but he knew that wouldn't get them anywhere and that it wouldn't do Dean any good. He needed to be found ASAP before that witch hurt him even more, or even kills him.

Sam scoffed but looked at his father with a heated glare.

"Whatever. What the hell happened anyways?"

John sighed. "We were on our way to the checkout, along the way we stopped in the sweets aisle so Dean could get whatever he wanted. He was following close behind me the whole time, which was what I thought he still was when I left the aisle."

"Apparently not," Sam snapped. "God, will it kill you to just be patient for once in your life?"

John opened his mouth to argue, but Bobby stepped in between them and shoved them away from each other.

"Ladies, have your catfight another time!" Bobby barked. "We have a rescue mission to plan out so none of us get killed, and no, Sam, going in there guns-a-blazing is not an option," the older hunter added, seeing the gears in Sam's head grinding together as he started to think, a hard look flashing through his eyes. Sam looked defeated, but let it go.

"Fine…but please, let's hurry. I want to get Dean out of the clutches of that bitch soon!"

Bobby's face softened as he set a hand upon his shoulder and squeezed. "Don't worry, son, we will. And that witch will have hell to pay."

Sam looked down at his old friend and smiled sadly. "Thanks, Bobby."

John watched the two and felt his heart grow even heavier with guilt. He knew Sam was right. Which was why he wasn't going to rest until his oldest boy was back with them, safe, sound, and cured.

The three hunters then sat down around the desk in Bobby's library and began drawing out a plan. In the meantime, Clare sat in the windowsill, glaring outside, growling deeply but quietly to herself. It may have been a trick of the light as her emerald eyes began glowing softly.

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><p><strong>X333 Man, I just ADORE Protectivecaring Sammy *_***

**And I kinda wish I was taking a writing class...I feel it'd help me be a better writer...anyways...TBC!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Evil procrastination is evil =3= I sowwy for the wait QwQ And a HAPPY BDAY to Jensen Ackles! X3333 Can't believe he's 34 already =O He and his wife, Danneel are in Balize X3**

**I hope they're enjoying the sunshine and warm weather while the rest of us experience the oddest weather I've ever known :P**

**I mean...61 degrees in the middle of February? Did someone summoned Hold Nickar or something? Quick! Someone warn the Winchesters! D8**

**This takes place between the season 1 eps _"Scarecrow"_ and _"Faith"_**

_**Supernatural**_**: Eric Kripke! :D**

* * *

><p>Dean had an overwhelming sense of déjà vu as he, once again, found himself bound to a chair. His wrists were tied together behind his back with some sort of odd, pulsating magenta energy. His ankles were bound to the chair legs with the same energy. This bitch was smart. The bindings gave him a sharp jolt of pain that felt like him sticking his finger in a wall socket each time he struggled to free himself. And the harder he struggled, the more intense the pain felt.<p>

He had learned that lesson the hard way just ten minutes ago. His wrists and arms felt tingly and he could feel his hair sticking up on their ends. The shocks also made him feel exhausted since he had also tried so hard not to cry out and satisfy the sick bitch's pleasure of causing him pain. But now, he wasn't sure if he could keep up the bravado any longer. The fact that he couldn't see or hear the witch sneering or cackling at him as he suffered was bad enough without him encouraging her. So he decided to play the good little captive for now…..at least until he regained enough energy to try it again.

Dean knew his pain threshold was high and had theorized that if he concentrated hard enough and gave it his all, he could break free of the magical bonds, possibly kill the witch himself, then get back to his family, whom of which he knew were going crazy with worry by now, especially Sammy. Of course, the plan of his would be a lot easier and less complicated if he wasn't freaking _blind_ _and deaf_. Plus he was only 90% sure that this plan would even work out.

Dean growled at his handicaps and yanked ruthlessly at his bindings again, this time, crying out as the sharp jolt now became a tazer, causing his muscles to spaz like crazy and twitch after he slumped down into the chair as far as he could go. Dean's breaths came out shaky and harsh as sweat began to trickle out from his pores, coating his face and neck in a shiny, glistening coat. He felt blood drip from his nose, tasting the bitter, coppery liquid as it seeped through his parted lips.

"I….bet you're….really beginning to….get a kick out of….this." Dean panted, sensing that the bitch was somewhere nearby. He licked his dry lips with a tongue that was already beginning to feel like sandpaper. He desperately wanted some water, but he knew better than to ask his hostess. Dean didn't want to risk adding poison to the list of unpleasant tortures the witch possibly had at ready, though he wouldn't put it past her to already have added it. His head was still killing him from whatever the witch had used to knock him out with. Dean worried that his head may explode from the extreme pressure building up in it, causing him to wince.

"_Oh,"_ a sinister, soft voice hissed inside his brain, startling him. _"You have no idea, hunter."_

Dean groaned. "Oh great. Just when I thought things couldn't get worse, now I'm beginning to hear voices in my head." He then froze. That was the witch's voice he was hearing! He groaned again, this time in utter despair. "Sonovabitch! You've got to be kidding me!"

"_Best__ mind your tone with me, hunter,"_ the witch snarled. Dean's brain then felt like someone taking a defibrillator to it.

Dean yelled, sure enough that his voice was loud enough to reverberate off the stone walls of the cellar he was sure he was in, according to the rank, musty smell and the coldness, similar to last time. The pain subsided and Dean bowed forward, gasping in unbearable agony.

"_Not so tough now without what makes you such a great hunter, huh?"_ the witch taunted. _"__Such a shame Daddy Dearest foolishly messed around with something he shouldn't have. My sister was brilliant putting you in a weaker form first with that little concoction of hers. _

_The spell your father had found in one of the spellbooks he had stolen from my sister's library was an Equivalent Exchange spell, if you will. In payment for returning your body back to normal, something had to be given up, such as your eyesight and hearing. I shouldn't be amazed, though, by what my sister did. She _had _learned from the best, after all.__"_

Dean scoffed. "You must be so proud. I bet she would have made a fine green-faced, warty hag."

Bad choice of words, Dean realized, as the searing pain sliced through his brain again. He managed to hold back the scream this time and just groaned and tensed his muscles.

"_You seem to have a re__al bad habit of antagonizing your enemies, Dean-O. Maybe I should cut out your tongue too. It'd complete the set, wouldn't you agree? I mean, blind, deaf, _and _mute? How fun will that be? I'm sure Sammy will love that."_

"Shut up!" Dean grated through harsh wheezes. "Don't call him that!"

"_You're in no position to tell me what to do,__ you bastard. Once I'm through with you, I'll go after your precious baby brother and rip out his lungs."_

"You lay one finger on him, and…."

"_Go ahead and threaten me, Dean!" _the witch growled, sending another jolt of pain through Dean's cranium. _"But there's _nothing_ you can do to stop me! Your brother deserves to die for murdering my baby sister."_ The last two words were said in a sorrowful whisper, Dean almost didn't hear them.

His heart clenched. She was just avenging the death of her younger sibling. In a way, that reminded Dean if himself and how he'd basically do the same thing to anyone who had dared hurt his little brother. A thought then occurred to him.

"May I ask you something?" Dean asked.

"_What," _the witch's response was bitter.

"Why go after me and not Sam? I mean, like you said, he was the one who had killed your sister."

Of course, Dean was glad that the witch had decided to target him and not Sam for the fact that his ailments would prevent him from even attempting a rescue. Plus, he really didn't want to imagine his brother going through all the pain and torture his was enduring. He was the tough one, and he knew he'd be able to hold out for awhile, but Sam wouldn't. Sam _couldn't_. Sam would break, and Dean wouldn't know how to fix him if he did.

It was silent for awhile. Well, to Dean, that was a bit of an understatement. But the witch hadn't spoken to him for so long, the hunter was sure he had hit a nerve and she was preparing her next torture. So when she did speak, Dean felt his blood run cold at her icy tone.

"_I thought you were smart, Dean."_ Dean was so tempted at responding that she had the wrong brother, but he didn't want to make her even madder than he had already made her. _"__What I'm doing is making your precious Sammy suffer__.__ I had to carry my sister's body out to give her a proper burial. _

"_You don't know how hard that is, having to feel the coldness of your dead sibling's skin and wishing that they'd move, that they'd _breathe_, but knowing that they wouldn't be able to anymore. Oh, believe me when I say that, when I saw you and your brother flee from here, I wanted to skin you bastards alive. But I held back when I learned that my sister's last spell had incapacitated you for a while__.__"_

"Oh yeah, I _loved_ being a munchkin for four months." Dean grumbled sarcastically. He recalled Sam telling him all about what had happened during that time, and he was rather embarrassed having to been the one to be looked after by his _younger_ brother this time.

"_Yes. I must admit you were a pretty admirable little brat," _the witch agreed. _"__And following you around let me know a bit more about how your family worked. How the infamous Winchesters are always willing to put themselves in the line of fire to save each other, even from one another. I was really impressed with how even Sammy stood up to his own father to defend big brother. I got a bit misty eyed__.__"_

"Save it for Hallmark," Dean smirked. He gasped as another wave of pain lanced through, not his head this time, but his chest, his heart to be exact. He could feel a constricting pressure grasp it, squeezing it so hard he was sure it'd pop like a water balloon. Then, the pain relinquished as quickly as it had come, leaving him gasping for air.

"_Careful with your word choice, hunter, or next time I will __crush your lungs.__"_

"Got it," Dean moaned, squeezing his eyes shut to ride out the residual ache that throbbed through his chest. "Smart mouthing the bad guy, bad, shutting up, good."

"_The thought of cutting out your tongue is still a relish idea, Dean. So I'd be careful of what you'd say from now on. Anyways,"_ the witch sighed, _"__I'm doing this to hurt Sam, not you. I want him to know how it feels to have someone close to him ripped away from his life forever. I'm sure he's never felt the same way I have.__"_

"_A bit late there, sister," _Dean thought solemnly, remembering how broken up and dismayed Sam was the night he had lost his girlfriend Jessica.

"_Ooooh, so little Sammy_has _felt that kind of suffering before__.__"_The witch's voice was dripping with sickening pleasure.

"What? How did…." Dean was disbelieved.

"_I'__m in your mind, you idiot. I can see and hear every single thought and idea running through your pea__-__sized brain__.__ And yes, I bet you didn't like the notion of being cared for by you baby brother. It's against the Big Brother Code, is it not?__"_

"You bitch, get out of my head!" Dean snarled. "I'm getting real tired of having to listen to you gloat and sob your heart out to me! And as for your sister, she deserved to die, just as much as you do! You do nothing but go around killing people for pleasure! And it's my job as a hunter to stop you!"

An amalgam of various forms of pain flashed through his body, insinuating just how ticked off Dean had just made the witch. His screams were so loud and long, he felt his throat begin to hurt from the abuse. A white hot burning sensation flooded his skull as jolts of electrical-like energy traveled from his bound wrists, up his arms, and through his torso, causing his heart to begin beating so erratically, he was afraid it would give out any second. His legs felt like hot pokers being gouged through them (and he knew what hot pokers felt like after his own personal run-in with the Bender family a few months back).

His back arched and his muscles spazzed until he suddenly slunk down in his chair, all his remaining energy sapped from all the anguish he had just went through. His breaths came out in ragged gasps. He felt like he couldn't move a muscle, which he couldn't anyways. Dean heard the witch voice hiss to him in ominous voice that was fading along with his consciousness.

"_I'll__ be back later, hunter. You better learn some manners until then."_

Dean then blacked out.

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><p><strong>TBC...<strong>


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry for the long wait again...I haven't really been up to par for the past few weeks and my creativity had sadly went down along with my mood. School isn't going all that well for me...and I'm feeling extremely homesick :( **

**But I'll try not to let that prevent me from finishing this story, b/c I'm anxious to since I already have another story idea in mind that I want to begin. I also have to work on my chapter of _Mothman_, the collaboration crossover of **_**Ben**_** 10/Supernatural**** I'm doing with Mothgirl13 of deviantART as well as _Alienated_, the crossover of _Ben 10/Supernatural_ I'm working on.**

**But I hope you're still enjoying this story, because I'm having fun writing it :) Thank you all for your wonderful reviews! **

**This takes place between the season 1 eps _"Scarecrow"_ and _"Faith"_**

_**Supernatural**_**: Eric Kripke**

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><p>Sam sat at the desk in Bobby's library, hunched over the Grimoire that had belonged to the first witch; studying it so intently, John was sure an F-5 tornado could pass by and Sam wouldn't give a damn. It was well into dusk and John and Bobby had devised a rescue plan. But now there was the matter of locating where the witch had taken Dean.<p>

Sam had suggested that they try the place where the first witch held Dean captive, but John brushed that theory aside, saying that that's what this witch would want them to think. Sam had wanted to argue, saying that it's their only and best lead, but Bobby had intervened, agreeing with John for the first time in a long time. John had then said that the witch would be throwing bread crumbs to lead them down a wrong path so it'd be impossible to locate Dean in time.

Sam had then huffed in frustration and resorted to the Grimoire to find a locater spell. That had been over five hours ago, and Sam had went through a hundred dozen pages of Latin, some of which he struggled deciphering, and odd drawings, coming up with nothing. He had a mug full of cold coffee that he hadn't touched since Bobby had given it to him two hours ago. John had turned in for the night, worn out from looking through texts all day. He was zonked out on the old couch by the window.

Clare had been sitting in the exact same position she had been in since earlier that evening, just staring outside with unblinking eyes. Bobby sat in the chair across from Sam, running a weary hand across bleary eyes. He then looked up at Sam; his heart breaking as he could see tears that had welled up in the twenty-three year old's hazel eyes. They threatened to fall any minute, but Sam refused to allow them. He would not show any weakness. He had to be strong for Dean.

Bobby sighed and looked at his watch. It was well past midnight and he was ready to call It a night. He knew that Sam wouldn't be so willing to give in. He was dead set on not resting till he had his big brother back with them, safe and sound. Bobby opened his mouth to say something, but Sam's low, fatigued voice interrupted him.

"Go and get some sleep, Bobby. I can hear you yawning. No use in trying to cover it up."

"I'm fine, Sam," Bobby lied, "I can keep going. You on the other hand…."

"_I'm fine,"_ Sam echoed Bobby's words, only with a bit more harshness then he meant. He then glared over at John and shook his head in disbelief. "He's only been looking through these damn texts for two hours and he's already passed out," he grumbled, mostly to himself. But Bobby had heard him anyways. He shook his head in exasperation and went back to the book he was reading.

Not five minutes later, a guttural growl left Sam's mouth as the Grimoire suddenly found its way flying across the room, slamming into the far wall with a thunderous crack before landing heavily onto the hardwood floor. John bolted upright on the couch, his hand automatically going for the blade he kept strapped to his ankle. He looked around with wide eyes for the danger, but became confused when he only seen a startled Bobby gawking at a frustrated Sam, who had both elbows up on the table where the witch's book had once been, his hands raked into his hair, his face resting in his palms. The only one who didn't seem disconcerted by Sam's sudden burst of outrage was Clare, who sat immobile in the same spot, her eyes having a faint, glowing green hue to them. But no one else in the room noticed.

"What the hell?" John growled, placing his knife back into its sheath. He swung his legs over the couch's edge so that his socked feet were resting on the floor. He glared at his youngest son, who wasn't responding.

"Sam!" He barked in a commanding tone. But Sam ignored him. He was about to shout again when Sam spoke up; his quiet voice muffled against his hands.

"Sam, move your damn hands," Bobby said. "We can't understand mumbles."

Sam did, and the two older hunters felt their hearts clench at the sight of red, teary hazel eyes that was glaring back at them. The eyes moved down to the Grimoire as he repeated what he had said last.

"That damn book can tell me how to mix a potion for walking in someone's dreams, but not tell me how to locate someone? It's useless!"  
>"Sam, now just calm down," Bobby took a slow step towards him, his hands held out placatingly. John stood up, his old knees cracking and was ready to face the outburst from Sam that was sure to come.<p>

Sam swiveled his head to glare at him, and he inwardly flinched at the hatred that his youngest son seemed to be throwing at him. He opened his mouth to say something when a sudden, loud meow interrupted him. The three hunters looked over at Clare, who was now up on all fours and staring back at them.

She quickly hopped down from the windowsill and bolted across the room, heading for a stack of books with scrolls of paper lying on top of them Bobby had placed haphazardly near the fireplace. Sam turned in his chair to keep his sight on her.

"What the Sam Hill has gotten into her?" Bobby wondered, watching as Clare stopped behind the stack, staring at it as if she was sizing it up, her tail twitching excitedly.

"I have no idea," Sam shook his head, not taking his eyes off of the tiny kitten. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head in curiosity as Clare stood up on her back legs, placing her front paws on the books. Sam's eyes widened as he seen what looked like the cat _pushing_ the stack till it started to topple over.

"No!" Bobby yelped, jumping forward to stop the downfall of the thick, heavy volumes. But it was too late. They clattered to the floor nosily, pages fluttering open, some tearing a bit as they descended. The scrolls rolled off, a few unraveling to reveal maps of different parts of the world. Soon, the whole library floor was blanket by books and maps and bits of paper that had flown loose from their confinement between the dusty pages.

"Damn it!" Bobby growled, whirling to face Clare. "Bad cat! Bad!" He reached to pick her up but she arched her back with a growl, hissed, and swatted at his hand with a lightning quick paw. Luckily, her claws were retracted, as she had only wanted to give Bobby a hearty warning, not injure him. But the older hunter had quickly leapt back away from the kitten, who suddenly bolted across the floor, bounding from one book to another until she reached the pile of unraveled scrolls and began pawing through them frantically.

"Sam, you know that cat better than any of us," John said. "What in the world is wrong with her?"

Sam looked up at him with a puzzled expression and shrugged his shoulders. "Honestly, I have no idea! She's been acting weird since we found her!"

"Where did you find her, anyways?" Bobby asked, turning his attention from the inquisitive feline to the young hunter.

Sam pursed his lips together and looked up at the ceiling as he recalled a few weeks back.

"We were leaving the movie theatre when Mini-Dean had torn away from me and ran across the parking lot. I found him kneeling by Clare's tiny form. She was so starved and frail that I _couldn't_ say no to letting Dean take her back with us."

"You happen to just stumble upon her?" John's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Sam rolled his eyes and glared up at his father. "We were in a city, Dad. Stray cats are known to roam around them."  
>John shook his head. "Just seems a bit strange to me that she happened to be in the exact same lot you two were in and that Dean somehow knew where she was since I'm betting that he didn't have an exact clear view of something as tiny as her and had dark fur."<p>

It then dawned on Sam that his father had a point. It was a bit odd, now that he thought about it. He looked back down at Clare, who had just picked up one of the maps in her small jaws and sauntered towards the table, crouching down before leaping elegantly on top of it and dropping the map in front of Sam. She mewed and pawed at Sam's shoulder, looking at the map and back at him insistently.

Sam then realized that she was trying to get him to look at it. He looked up at Bobby and John, who both shrugged and helped him unravel the map. Bobby set down some books as makeshift paperweights and the three hunters then peered down at the map.

"You've _got_ to be kidding me!" Sam gasped, his eyes widening as he saw what the map was of.

"I guess we should have known," Bobby growled, feeling disbelieved.

"What? Someone wanna clue me in?" John asked irritably.

Sam huffed and slumped back in his chair, running a frustrated hand through his unkempt hair. "It's where the first witch had kidnapped Dean three months ago."

John's eyes widened as he looked at the map with dumbfounderment. It was of Massachusetts. The town of Salem had been circled with a red Sharpie. Sam had remembered that when they were looking for a hunt back then, they were staying at Bobby's for some downtime not long after the scarecrow incident. Dean had been the one to have stumbled across the witch case and had shown Sam the very same map. They had decided to take up the case and set out that night.

Sam now wishes that they hadn't. His gut clenched with queasiness and he swore his face lost all traces of color. Tears welled up in his eyes. He then felt a swell

of anger rise inside of him.

"Sam, you alright?" John asked worriedly, noticing his son's pale complexion.

"No, Dad," Sam growled, standing up so that he was face to face with his father. "I'm far from fine! We've been sitting here for hours, trying to find out where Dean was and he happened to have been in the one place that we freaking swore he wouldn't be in this whole freaking time!

In fact, _you_ were the one that said the witch _wouldn't_ be sloppy enough to take him somewhere we knew her sister had took him before!" Sam jammed a finger hard into John's chest. "We hadn't even bothered to check to be sure; instead throwing the idea out and because of that, Dean could be _dead_! And it's because of your damn theory!" Sam slammed his fist down on the table so hard, the reverberations were strong enough to shift the books a few inches and made Clare mew in surprise.

John opened and closed his mouth, making a good impression of a fish out of water, struggling to find the right words to say. But right now, he found that impossible. Sam's tears were cascading down his reddened cheeks by now as his hate filled eyes bored into his.

"Dean could be dead," Sam repeated with less ire and in a whispered tone. He then bowed his head and let out an angry sob, turning away from his so-called father, clenching his fists on the desktop and leaning down over it as his emotions took over him. His bangs fell over his eyes as tears dripped down onto the old wood, sobs shaking his whole body. Clare meowed and began licking his face, her tongue drinking up the salty water on his face, trying to comfort him. But it just made Sam cry even harder. He fell to his knees and buried his face in his arms.

Bobby and John watched him with sunken hearts.

"Sam," Bobby began hesitantly. "We're not sure that your brother is…gone." He couldn't bring himself to say the d-word. "He could still be there and sitting there crying about him sure isn't doing nothing to help him. If we want to save Dean, we have to get going, _now_!"

Sam suddenly gasped and lifted his head as Bobby's words sunk into him. How could he have been such an idiot to assume a preposterous thing? He could only hope that Bobby was right and that they weren't too late to save Dean. He angrily wiped away his tears and stood up on Jell-O legs, not daring to look at John, who felt a pang of remorse overwhelm him.

"Oh my God, Bobby. I-I'm sorry. Y-you're right. We have to leave, like right now!" He looked around for the Impala's keys and looked up as a jangling metallic noise sounded, seeing that Bobby already had them.

"You know what they say about people being too upset to drive, boy. I'm going to be the designated driver this time. You two just get your asses in the car. We're wasting enough time as it is!"

Sam was already out the door before Bobby could even finish his sentence. Clare jumped down from the table and scurried after him. Bobby turned to follow, but stopped when he saw that John made no move to head out.

"John, get your head in the game!" Bobby growled, grasping his old friend's arm roughly and dragging him towards the door.

"Bobby," John finally spoke, his voice choked with grief. "Sam's right. I should have…."

"Save it for later, John." Bobby snapped, dragging him to the Impala's passenger door. Sam and Clare sat in the back, looking extremely anxious and worried. "We've wasted enough time with these pointless trivialities. It's a damn long trip back to Salem, and you best hope we make it there in time, or it won't be just Sam's wrath you'll be facing."

Bobby then opened the door and unceremoniously shoved the old hunter onto the seat before running around to the other side and getting behind the wheel. The Impala roared to life, tires spinning on the gravel road as she tore out of the Singer Salvage Yard, as if she, too, was fervent to save her owner.

It was a day's worth of driving, but with the speed Bobby was doing down the highway, he was sure he'd make it there in half the time. He just prayed hard that they wouldn't be too late.

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><p><strong>TBC...<strong>


	12. Chapter 12

**Sorry for not updating this in nearly two months. I had a major writer's block and couldn't figure out what could happen next. The time was also taken from me moving out of college and back home and then preparing to find another one closer to home. I plan on taking some writing classes to improve my skills so I can be a better author :)**_  
><em>

**I also have been drawing more as well. I have a picture of Clare drawn up. If you want to see her, just go to my page on deviantART (SuperChillMoosegirl) and look in my gallery :) She's on the 1st page. I tried giving a link, but it wouldn't come out right ^^;**

**But she's my first full digital painting and I'm quite proud of it :D**

**So, once again, I apologize for the wait, and I'm happy to say that the writer's block has passed and I know what to do from this point on. So enjoy!**

**This takes place between the season 1 eps _"Scarecrow"_ and _"Faith"_**

_**Supernatural**_**: Eric Kripke**

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><p>When Dean awoke what felt like hours later, his head felt as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to it at least a hundred times. Massive pressure was building up behind his eyeballs, threatening to pop them straight out his skull. He felt a warm liquid dribbling from his right nostril and snaked his tongue out to catch a tiny drop, grimacing at the bitter, coppery taste of blood.<p>

Dean's entire body felt numb; small needle pricks danced across his fingertips and toes. He knew that once the numbness subsided, he'd be relatively sore from the rough torture he had endured just minutes ago. Or was it hours? Dean had been out for who knows how long, that it caused him to lose track of all time, his biological clock being screwed all to Hell.

Dean groaned as the pressure behind his eyes increased, his head now throbbing painfully with the emergence of a massive headache. He was close to tears, the pain was that bad. But he couldn't, not when that bitch of a witch was possibly still lurking nearby, basking in his misery.

"Sonovabitch," he moaned, opening his eyes and still seeing pitch blackness. He also realized that he couldn't hear a thing, which brought back the unpleasant memory of him being blind and deaf. "Dammit….I was hoping this was like Wizard of Oz and I'd awaken inside Bobby's house with him, Dad, Clare, and Sammy gathered around me. Of course, that'd make me the Dorothy chick.

"But Sammy _does_ look like the Scarecrow dude. That would mean Bobby is the Cowardly Lion," Dean snickered at that since he knew that Bobby was anything but a yellowbelly. "And Dad would be the Tinman and Clare would be Toto." At this point, Dean was rambling, something he usually does to make him forget just how much pain he's suffering from and to forget just how much trouble he was in. "And of course, the Wicked Bitch of the West would be the wart-face who was gunning after me."

"_Awwwww, now that's not very nice, Dean-__O__,"_ the witch's voice suddenly spoke in Dean's head, startling him, making him yelp as that caused some of his awakening, sore muscles to pull. _"You know I__ look very young for my age."_

"Well, well, speak of the devil," Dean smirked. "How long have you been creeping on me?"

"_Oh, I never left. I was waiting here this whole time,"_

"So in other words, you were watching me sleep….you perv," Dean smiled suggestively, waggling his eyebrows for good measure. But the witch just chortled, something that sent a shiver down Dean's spine, as if a bucket of ice cubes was cascading down his back.

"Please don't do that again. You win the Creepiest Evil Laugh Award," Dean shuddered.

The witch chuckled. _"Oh, you're so funny, Dean. But I seriously hope __that you had learned your lesson about testing me. I'm positive that you wouldn't like to go through any of that anytime soon, right?"_

"Naaah….it was actually a blast," Dean remarked acrimoniously. "Kind of like a massive sugar rush. I feel quite energized right now."  
><em>"That's it, big hero,"<em> the witch cooed. Dean flinched as he felt long fingernails caress his cheek. _"Downplay ju__st how much it truly hurts with smartass comments as you always do. But I'm going to warn you that one more treatment like that will kill you."_

Dean's breath caught at this as his body tensed. He hoped the witch didn't catch his reaction, but the infamous Winchester luck obviously decided to take a vacation from him that day because the witch not only noticed his reaction, but she laughed that terrible, nails-on-a-chalkboard cackle of hers again, making Dean's spine tingle.

"Ahh….I told you not to do that again!" Dean winced.

"_Like you're in a__ny position to tell _me _what to do, Hunter. I could kill you with a mere flick of the wrist and avenge my baby sister faster, by I won't. You deserve to suffer as much as your precious Sammy does. You do know that he's coming for you as we speak, right?" _the witch asked with mock curiosity.

Dean's head snapped up at this.

"What?"

"_Oh, yes. I picked up the trace of his mana __a while ago, while you were still out cold__."_

"Mana?"

"_His life energy, my dear Hunter.__ In fact, I picked up four traces. Seems like you have a cavalry on the way."_

"Yeah, and believe me, they'll be ticked at you. You won't even have time to open your mouth to curse them….you'll be dead!"

"_Oh hahahaha….We'll see about that. Now then, why__ don't you just sit here for a while longer while I go greet your family and give them a warm welcome?__"_

"You bitch, leave them alone!" Dean growled. He struggled against his bonds, but immediately stopped as he felt a sharp jolt of magical energy. He ceased his struggling, the witch's warning ringing in his head. He realized that she wasn't speaking to him any longer, which meant that she was gone. Gone to finish off the only remaining family members he had left.

Dean bowed his head and began to cry.

**SPNSPNSPN**

Sam anxiously tapped his fingertips on the backseat of the Impala. It had been just twenty hours since they had left Sioux Falls, South Dakota, and they still had six more to go. Bobby had been speeding for the majority of the trip, which got them as far as Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. But traffic had slowly been congesting the highway that they were on. The Impala was currently sandwiched between a hot-rod full of rambunctious teenage boys that apparently believed that their rap music had to be heard by everyone on the highway, and a blue Honda Civic belonging to a business woman yammering on her cell-phone, her high-pitched voice annoying enough to make Sam want to put a bullet through his skull….or hers.

Sam glanced down at Clare, who was sitting ramrod straight beside him, her emerald eyes fixated on the traffic ahead of them, her tail swishing back and forth, a sign that she was clearly annoyed. She growled, forcing an amused smile on Sam's face.

"How much longer till we get to Salem?" he piped up. John and Bobby were in the front seats. They exchanged a grim look and Bobby turned his gaze to him in the rearview mirror.

"Traffic is pretty heavy, Sam. We'll be lucky to get there before nightfall. But at this rate…." He sighed and pressed the horn of the Impala, only to be answered by a series of other impatient and irritated honks.

Sam groaned and slumped against the backseat. "Dean could be dead before then! We have to get out of this mess now!"

"Can't be helped, Sam." John said melancholically. He was sitting quietly in the passenger seat, elbow resting against the window, knuckles propping his head up as he stared, unblinking, at the thick river of cars before them.

Sam glared knives in the back of his father's head. "We wouldn't even be in this mess if you had kept a closer eye on him!"

"Oh, come on, Sam," John rolled his eyes and turned to scowl back at his youngest son. "We've already established that it was my fault. Will you let it go?"

"Not until we make sure Dean's safe and sound and back with us," Sam replied coldly. "And when his vision and hearing are repaired, since losing them was _also_ your fault!"

"Sam, John," Bobby growled in warning, not wanting to sit through another heated argument between the two.

"How many times have I said I was sorry?" John's deep voice boomed through the small interior of the Impala. Clare actually flinched and Sam hunched down a bit, but soon recovered.

"Sorry isn't good enough, Dad! You think saying it a thousand times will return Dean's sight and hearing? You think it'll save him from that bitch, who is probably doing God knows what to him as we sit here in this damn traffic jam with our thumbs up our asses?"

"We _will_ get to Dean and gank that bitch, you can bet your life on that, Sam," John hissed. "But you're looking on the negative side of things, which could endanger this mission! Dean's counting on you to have a level head and to be confident, yet here you are worrying yourself into thinking we won't reach him in time. Dean has always been strong and kept a clear mind in heated situations."

"Only because you trained him that way!" Sam snapped. "Made him into a perfect little soldier. A carbon-copy of you."

"If you two don't shut your traps right now, I will tie you both up, gag you, and shove you in the trunk till we get to Salem! Do I make myself clear?" Bobby's voice roared loud enough to startle Sam and John into silence and to make the woman who was chatting on her phone to look over at them with wide eyes. Bobby ignored her and waited for the two younger hunters to reply.

Finally, Sam just leaned against the door, mumbling a yes sir, then falling into a quiet brooding session, glaring out the window. John sighed and resumed his previous position before the argument with Sam started. Bobby rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

_"__So this is what Dean used to have to go through all the time. Hopefully after we get him back, he won't have to play peacemaker any longer.__"_

An hour later, the traffic finally began thinning out and, once there was an opening, Bobby tore out of the steady stream and raced down the highway, afraid that the time they lost was the time that Dean desperately needed. He hoped that they weren't too late.

* * *

><p><strong>TBC...<strong>

**If you spot any inconsistencies, please let me know :)**


	13. Chapter 13

**Yay! A new chapter at last! X3 LOL I apologize for the super long wait. Hope you enjoy this!**

**This takes place between the season 1 eps _"Scarecrow"_ and _"Faith"_**

_**Supernatural**_**: Eric Kripke**

* * *

><p>Dean hadn't been aware that he had slipped into a deep slumber until he was brutally awoken by a sudden pressure on his lap. He quickly remembered where he was and knew that it was not any of his one-night stands giving him something extra before they departed permanently.<p>

"What are you doing back here? I thought you were leaving?" Dean asked puzzled.

_"__Oh, I was. But I changed my mind,__" the_ witch's seductive voice whispered in his mind. He felt taloned fingers raking harshly through his hair, making him wince as a few of those nails scraped against his scalp. _"Your family is nearly here, Dean-O…__."_

"Yeah, and you better be ready to have your sorry ass ganked, bitch," Dean interrupted through clenched teeth, his muscles still sore from the rough treatment of his magical bonds.

_"Hahaha, you're funny, Dean-O."_

"Stop calling me that!" Dean yelled. He felt the sting of a sudden smack across his cheek that snapped his head to the left before clawed hands roughly grasped the back of his head, forcing his head to be tilted back so far, he feared that his neck would break. He felt a whimper escape his mouth as tears of pain streaked from his eyes.

_"You don't proceed to tell _me_ what to do, _Dean-O_,__" _the witch snarled. _"__Unless you want to die, you will let me do whatever I please to you."_

"Kinky," Dean managed to snark. A sharp jolt shut him up.

_"I told you once, before, Dean__, anymore snide remarks and I will cut out your tongue__."_

Dean fell silent, only because the witch had yanked his head back so far, he couldn't make a sound, let alone breath. His mouth started to open and close in his panic to get oxygen into his starving lungs. Black spots danced around the edges of his vision. Just as he was about to pass out, his head was released and he was able to drop it back into a more convenient position, gulping in as much air as he possibly could. He was sure that his neck would be really sore soon.

"_As I was saying before you oh-so-rudely interrupted me, your brother and one-tracked mind father are going to be here soon. I had to get the place ready for them. It's quite rude for a hostess to invite her guests into a filthy house before she kills them.__"_

"Ha, good luck with that. Sammy and my dad are smarter than you give them credit for. They won't allow you to get the drop on them and-"

"_Shh,"_ the witch suddenly hushed him. _"__Do you hear that? Oh! I'm sorry, I forgot, you can't. Hahaha. Sounds like your rescue team are here."_

Dean stiffened at this. His family was so close! He felt like crying with sheer relief, but forced himself to remain stalwart, so the witch wouldn't detect his excitement. Before he could speak, Dean felt a wad of cloth shoved nearly down his throat followed by a rag being placed over his mouth. He tried to shake off the witch's hands as she tied the gag tightly behind his head, but he was still weak from the shock treatments from his bonds.

_"Can't have you yelling__ for little brother and daddy, now can we? Don't worry, though, I'll take good care of them. I promise," _she added with a tone of sickening pleasure, telling Dean that her version of 'good care' was all but that.

He couldn't hear her talking to him in his mind, so he assumed that she was gone. Dean grunted through his gag, shifting slightly in his chair, trying to ease the agonizing pain in his back from sitting upright too long. The pain made his wince and shut his eyes, trying not to cry. It would make things a lot harder to breathe, and he was having enough trouble as it was.

When the hunter next opened his eyes, he was startled that he saw vague, blurry shapes instead of pure black. Given, they were too dark to make out, but he could still _see_ them somewhat. His heart palpitated. Dean blinked again. This time, the shapes became clearer and less fuzzy. He uttered a muffled sob of happiness. He could see again! He then realized that he could hear a high-pitched ringing in his ears.

Before, Dean heard silence, but the ringing noise was something new. He didn't know how- and he didn't really care to be honest-but he was getting his lost senses back! He guessed it was the side-effect of the spell his father used to revert him back to his 27-year old self wearing off. Once the ringing stopped, the first sound he heard was his baby brother calling out to him. And Dean had no way of making himself heard, of reassuring Sam that he was there. He felt like crying again, this time in frustration.

**SPNSPNSPN**

It was well past midnight when Bobby pulled through the opened iron wrought gates outside a large mansion. He had managed to reach Salem in the time he allotted by speeding through red lights and stop signs, ignoring the irate horns and hollers of tired and angry drivers that were just anxious to get home and sleep.

The 5-story mansion itself looked to be about 200 years old and was made of a combination of red brick, concrete, and limestone with steel trusses. Climbing vines reached all the way up to the grey shingled roof, curling around the water spouts at each corner of the building. There were Carrera marble statues of sentient dragons on either side of the large oak double doors, their jade green eyes staring straight forward. Sam swore that they were staring through him and into his soul, but chalked it up to just his nerves working up. Other marble statues of various natures-from angels to lions to ravens- dotted the well kempt lawn. They meant to beautify the place, but they just gave the area an even more creepy feeling. The windows were all tinted so it was impossible to look in from the outside. For an old building and the way the lawn was, the three hunters knew it was all but vacant. Sam remembered this place all too well; it being the same house he had rescued Dean from months ago. He had been hoping he wouldn't have to come back to this place ever again, but he had a big brother to save.

Bobby coasted the Impala up the winding driveway, looking up at the eerie-looking building with Sam, John, and Clare as they neared it.

"Finally," Sam said mostly to himself, getting out once the Impala came to a slow stop. He reached into his left pocket and took out the spare trunk key Dean had had made for him when he was officially allowed to drive his brother's baby. Sam robotically made his way to the trunk and slid the key into the keyhole, turning it and unlocking the trunk.

"I drove as fast as I could, boy," Bobby said was fake irritability, trying to make things light to ease the tension cloud hanging over the young hunter's head. Sam sensed it and raised his head, smiling a small, sad smile.

Bobby could just make out tears in his hazel eyes. He knew the young hunter was struggling to keep himself together in front of his militant father. If it were up to him, Bobby would pull Sam to him in a firm but gentle hug and let him cry his eyes out. But now was not the time for that. Dean was just inside with a vindictive witch, possibly hurt even more. And they needed to get to him before the witch decided to kill him.

Clare stood up on the back bench seat, but before she could jump out, John swiftly locked and closed the door on her. Sam looked up and gaped at his father.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked demandingly. "Let Clare out."

"We can't let her come in with us," John said simply. "She's liable to run off and get us into more trouble than we're expecting.

Sam sighed and looked down at her, apologizingly through the partially opened window.

"Sorry, Clare. He's right. You need to stay in here till we rescue Dean. We can't risk you running off and alerting the witch to our location."

Clare meowed dolefully and scratched at the side of the door, begging Sam to open it. She didn't like the idea of being alone when she knew she could help. Sam just didn't understand that.

"I'm sorry, sweetie." Sam reached in and gave her head a loving stroke before withdrawing his hand. He smiled at her sadly.

"Sam," John growled. "Stop talking to that thing and wasting time. We need to sneak in, now!"

Sam gave his father a sharp glare. He wanted to argue, but he also knew that his father had a point. The longer they stood out here, throwing useless verbals at one another, the less time Dean had. So, he helped John and Bobby gather every single weapon they had and stash it into their duffels. Though they knew a simple stab through the heart would be enough to kill a witch, they weren't gonna risk not having any back up plans with them just in case the witch decided to play dirty, which she would.

"Alright," Bobby said in a commanding tone, shutting the trunk as quietly as he could and standing, facing the entrance to the house, John and Sam on either side of him. They all had their own choice of weapon with them: Sam was holding his brother's favorite Colt M1911A1 that John had given to him for his sixteenth birthday along with the Impala, making the teen all too ecstatic at not only having his very own car, but his very own weapon as well, having had borrowed his Dad's guns and knives before.

John held a machete that still had traces of blood from the last vampire hunt he had been on. It had been a tough hunt and the blood refused to come off completely.

Bobby, himself, had Dean's special Bowie Knife that Sam had given to him not too long before he had left for Stanford, telling him that he wanted to be sure he was safe, to which Dean, of course, responded with a witty retort that made him smile cockily on the outside, when Sam knew he was breaking down on the inside. It had made Sam feel like an ass, knowing he was the reason for putting that feeling in his brother.

"We have a witch to gank. Everybody ready?"

"More than ever," Sam replied with sheer determination, cocking the gun.

"Enough chatter. Let's go." John started for the front door.

Sam and Bobby looked at each other then followed. None of them noticed Clare watching them leave and the lock opening. Sam and Bobby stopped behind John, who was just staring at the door with a steely glare.

"So, are you gonna knock or wait till the door loses the staring contest?" Bobby asked, raising an eyebrow.

John turned to give Bobby the same glare he had given the door then turned back, raising a foot to kick it open when the doors suddenly did so themselves with a loud, unnerving creak, reminiscent of the kind you'd hear in horror movies. They opened wide enough to allow them to squeeze in one at a time. The three hunters looked at each other questioningly.

"Well isn't that suspicious," Bobby scoffed. "No doubt that wasn't the wind."

"Let's not look a gift horse in the mouth." John said, taking the lead once more and entering the building with caution, scanning left and right for any signs of danger.

Once John made sure the foyer and the adjoining rooms were scoped out, he signaled to Bobby and Sam that it was alright for them to enter. They did so just as cautiously, back-to-back; weapons held at ready, leaving the doors cracked open.

"It's a bit _too _quiet in here, don't you think?" Bobby whispered, looking around the elaborately decorated foyer.

Bracketed candles that were lit, giving a warm glow to the mahogany paintjob, aligned the walls, where various olden paintings of Englishmen and women hung. Sam had assumed they were relatives or even ancestors dating back to the Salem Witch Trials. The floors were polished granite and have a long, oriental rug running the length of it, where there was a grand spiral staircase that led to the upper floor. The doorway to their right led to an elegant dining room while the doorway on the left led down another lit hallway that branched off into two more. More paintings and pictures hung on the walls.

"We should split up," John suggested in a tone that wouldn't be argued with. "Bobby and I will check through the dining room. Sam, you check those halls. You see the witch, you fire. No hesitation." He added with a stern glare at Sam.

"Believe me, this witch isn't going to live to see the next sunrise." Sam snarled, already making his way quietly down the hall, his back against the wall.

Bobby and John shared a look before heading into the dining room, which had a set of sliding doors that were opened, revealing a spotless kitchen.

**SPNSPNSPN**

Sam froze as he reached the corner of the hallway leading to the left, his hands gripping the gun tightly, his finger twitching on the trigger. He berated himself to keep a calm head. He couldn't show any weakness should he run into the witch. He took a deep breath and leaped around the corner, swinging his weapon down both halls, but seeing no one or anything. The hall to his left led to a door he figured might be a bedroom and the other one led to a library that he would love to spend hours in, but knew he couldn't.

From his previous visit to this mansion, Sam remembered that the cellar's entrance he had found Dean in when he had first been kidnapped by the witch's sister was hidden behind one of the bookcases.

"_Cliché,"_ Sam thought, rolling his eyes and making his way to the library. He froze as he felt something following him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He slowly turned his head and saw a shadow appear one the wall of the hallway he had just came from. He turned around just as a figure emerged, aiming his gun straight at…a small black kitten with round emerald eyes.

"_Mrow!"_ Clare started purring when she saw Sam, who breathed out a sigh of relief and lowered his arms.

"Clare! How'd you get in here? I told you to stay in the car!" Sam berated.

Clare's tail, which swished back and forth happily, drooped and she looked up at Sam with eyes that were the cat's equivalence to his own puppy-dog eyes. Sam felt his irritableness fade into love.

"You want to help save Dean, too, don't you?" he smirked as Clare's tail shot back up and she bobbed her head, as if she was nodding. Sam laughed. "Okay, okay. Dad will be ticked, but who cares. Dean's more important than his temper tantrum." Sam then headed for the library with Clare in tow.

**SPNSPNSPN**

Sam knew which bookcase to search behind. Before it had taken him a good twenty minutes, flipping books onto the floor, searching for the one that was the right lever. His photographic memory allowed him to recall which volume to pull and when he reached it, he yanked it. A low whir sounded and Sam stood back as the entire bookcase revolved, revealing a Medieval style wooded door with brass knockers. It was fixed from the last time he had broken it down. He slowly stepped up to it, putting his ear up to the wood, listening hard. It was complete silence so it was easy to hear the muffled cries coming from somewhere behind the door.

"Dean!" Sam whispered in worry. He then stepped back and raised a foot, bringing it forward with powerful force, breaking the door open. "Hang on, Dean!" he cried, momentarily forgetting that his big brother couldn't hear him. He then ran through the doorway, Clare running after him.

**SPNSPNSPN**

Bobby and John met back up in the dining room, shaking their heads, letting each other know that they haven't found any signs of the witch.

"This is where Clare showed us where Dean would be," Bobby removed his cap and scratched his head in frustration, then put it back on.

John rolled his eyes. "You really think a damn furball will be accurate enough to tell us where Dean is?" he said in exasperation.

"I'm telling you, Jonathan, Clare is no ordinary cat." Bobby then looked straight into his eyes with a sudden realization. "Do you think she's a Familiar?"

John looked back at him with the same look. "It could be possible. But I've never heard of witches having _kittens_ as Familiars before. Perhaps Clare was an exception though."

"But Sam and Dean had found her nearly starved to death and on the verge of hypothermia." Bobby pointed out.

"She was probably thrown out by the witch when she didn't meet her standards," John suggested. Bobby shrugged and was about to reply when the doors leading into the foyer suddenly slammed shut. Bobby and John jumped, raising their weapons immediately.

"What the hell?" John exclaimed, rushing to the doors, yanking on them. But they wouldn't open.

"She must've used an enchantment on this place! Sort of like a supernatural lock-down!" Bobby said, looking around.

He heard the sound of wood sliding and looked into the kitchen where he saw one of the drawers had been opened, but no one was around. Bobby's heart started palpitating as he saw dozens of steak and butcher knives rising up on their own and then jumping up onto the counter.

"John?" Bobby said.

John looked up from trying to open the door and froze upon seeing the enchanted knives standing on their own.

"Not good," he grumbled.

"You think?"

Suddenly, two of the knives launched themselves at the two hunters so fast, they barely had time to react, ducking to the sides just in time to prevent being impaled.

"I really hate witches!" John cried, deflecting another knife with his machete before it struck Bobby in the back.

**SPNSPNSPN**

Sam and Clare descended the stone stairs and into the musky basement with caution and reached another wooden door. The muffled cries were louder as they listened through the wood. Sam tentatively pulled on the brass ring. The door creaked open a bit, telling him it was unlocked. He breathed a sigh of relief and wanted to cry, knowing that his brother was on the other side of this door. He then pushed it all the way open, pushing all thoughts of cautionary measures as soon as he saw the state of his big brother, rushing immediately to his side.

Sam felt the tears prick his eyes as he saw that Dean's bonds around his arms, wrists, torso, legs, and ankles weren't ordinary ropes but magical energy that sparked each time Dean moved. Sam noticed that he was trying to be as still as possible, but saw he looked extremely tired and slipped down in his chair when he tried to hold himself up, causing the bonds to spark again and grunts of pain come from his brother.

"Oh, God, Dean," Sam tapped on Dean's shoulder gently, unaware that Dean was looking directly at him with clear, tearful eyes. His words were blocked by his gag, but Sam could make out _'Sammy__'_ being one of them. He let tears fall as he worked on getting the gag loose.

"It's okay, big brother, I'm here," Sam soothed, going back and forth from untying the rag to rubbing Dean's shoulder in comfort. Dean continued grunting through the gag, and Sam had the feeling he was trying to tell him something important.

"Hold on, Dean," Sam struggled with the knot. "Damn, this witch must have been a friggen Girl Scout!"

Clare sat at Dean's feet, meowing and looking up at him. Suddenly, her head snapped towards the door as she heard footfalls coming down the stairs. She pressed her ears back and hissed. Sam halted his attempt at untying the gag and immediately moved to stand in front of Dean protectively, holding his gun up as a woman of about 30 years in age with long, straight black hair and piercing ice, blue eyes entered seductively with a black lipsticked smirk. She wore a long-sleeved Black Gothic Lolita-style sorceress dress with a high color, a matching cape with a red underside, and knee-high black boots with four inch thin heels.

"Well well well, look at who we have here," the witch purred, her eyes looking Sam up and down, her smirk widening. "Dean-O has such a handsome younger brother. It's a shame I have to kill him."

Dean yelled through his gag, trying to tell her to keep away from his little brother. But his words went unheard.

"You will pay for doing this to him," Sam seethed. He then fired the gun.

The witch quickly held up a hand. _**__"__Declino!"_

The bullet froze an inch from penetrating her chest. She grinned evilly. _**"__Retoff Alegoria!" _With a flick of her wrist, she sent the bullet flying towards Dean with lightning speed before Sam could stop it.

The bullet hit him square in the shoulder. Dean screamed through his gag and the shift of his bonds caused a great amount of magical energy to shock the older hunter.

"DEAN!" Sam screamed as he suddenly became still in his chair. "No!"

"Hehe, I should've told you that Dean's been suffering through that torture all day long. One last jolt was enough to kill him. So sorry," the witch said with a mock pout and sorrow.

Sam felt his body tremble in anger as he stared at his unmoving brother. It was final. This witch was going to die by his hand tonight. And he was going to make sure that it was a slow, excruciating and merciless death.

* * *

><p><strong>Some of the spells I use in this story are the same ones Gwen Tennyson of <em>Ben 10Ben 10 Alien Force/Ben 10 Ultimate Alien_ uses, such as the second spell the witch uses.**

****_Declino_- Decline**

****_Retoff Alegoria_- Causes something to go flying at an target.**

**TBC...**


	14. Chapter 14

**TT3TT I REEEEEEAALLY apologize for the too long of a wait on this chapter. I've been working on it here and there over the past month. I had started my online classes after applying to a new college and I have an hour long class every Tuesday and Thursday evenings, so I've been busy with schoolwork to top it off. **

**But I'm happy to have finally got this chapter done, and I'm a bit proud and nervous about it. I really hope you all like it! There should be one more chapter and then it'll be complete so I can then move onto a new story idea that I've had in mind and wanted to wait to start till I finished this :) I know I still need to finished _Mothman_ and _Alienated_ as well, and I will...eventually, I promise!**

**I apologize for any mistakes and/or inconsistencies. **

**This takes place between the season 1 eps _"Scarecrow"_ and _"Faith"_**

_**Supernatural**_**: Eric Kripke**

* * *

><p>Sam shifted his attention from his unconscious sibling to the witch, his eyes blazing.<p>

"Why did you do this to him?" Sam asked through clenched teeth, his gun-hand trembling.

"Simple," the witch stepped forward. Sam raised his gun at her, but she just smirked and rolled her eyes, continuing to approach him slowly. Clare stood next to Sam, her fur standing up straight like needles, ears flat against her skull. She was growling threateningly, wide green eyes on the witch.

"You killed my younger sister," the witch fixed an ice-cold glare on Sam, who tilted his head in confusion. A realization then hit him as he recalled John telling him about the witch he had saved Dean from months ago.

"She kidnapped and tortured my brother, of course I had to kill her," Sam spat, not missing the way the iciness of the glare turned red-hot.

The witch then smirked and shook her head. "You have a point there, Sammy,"

"It's Sam," was the hunter's immediate response.

"Whatever," the witch waved a dismissing hand with an eye-roll. "You just did what was natural when someone threatens your big brother."  
>"Damn straight," Sam growled in a way that was so much like Dean, he felt a surge of pride and love for him. "And looks like you'll be seeing your sister again real soon."<p>

Sam's finger flexed on the trigger, but before he could press it, the witch swung her arm through the air and the gun suddenly flew from his grasp. With another flick of her wrist, the witch sent Sam flying. He crashed roughly into a few dusty boxes and remained lying there, motionless.

Clare mewled and ran over to him, nudging Sam's cheek with her tiny nose and pawing his closed eyes with a gentle paw. She continued crying for him, as if begging for the hunter to get up and be okay. But Sam didn't move.

The witch tilted her head, as if seeing Clare for the first time. A broad smile stretched across her face.

"Artemis, is that you?"

Clare snapped her head back to the witch when she heard the name 'Artemis'. She seemed to realize her mistake and cowered down, trying to make herself smaller as the witch approached her.

"Artemis! Why, it is you! I hardly recognized you! When I tossed you out for being an ungrateful and disobedient furball, you were just a mere, scrawny thing. Look at you now. Seems like these hunters have been taking real good care of you these past few months." The witch then crouched down, reaching out to grasp Clare by the nape of her neck, her talons digging into the soft flesh, making the kitten cry out and swipe at the witch, who just laughed and stood back up.

"I do hope that you have learned your lesson for you inferiority. I'm willing to take you back as my familiar once more. What do you say? You want to work with Cryssandra once more, don't you?"

As Clare's response, she yowled loudly and struck out again with her left paw, her claws managing to find purchase on Cryssandra's face below her right eye. Clare then drug her paw upwards, leaving three deep, bloody slashes that led up from the witch's lower eyelid, across her unfortunate open eye, and to the center of her forehead.

"Ahhh!" Cryssandra lost her purchase on Clare to clutch her wounded face. Blood seeped through her fingers. Clare dropped, landing on her feet. The little kitten then back away a few feet, arched her back and hissed.

Cryssandra growled furiously and removed her hands from her face. Blood continued to flow freely from the lacerations, her right eye swelled shut.

"You despicable little piece of crap! I gave you a chance to earn my forgiveness and THIS is how you repay me?!"

Clare stopped hissing and just backed up some more, back still arched with the fur standing up straight, her green eyes wide with fear. She licked her mouth nervously.

"You will be sorry for that." Cryssandra then reached out a hand towards the kitten and clenched her fist tightly.

Sam began to regain consciousness around this time. He was slow at first, but when a tiny, pained yelp reached his ears, his head snapped up in time to see Clare's dead body collapse onto the floor in front of him, her throat crushed.

"No!" Sam cried, his eyes transfixed on the small, motionless body before him. He quickly got up, wincing at the sharp pain in his left shoulder from where he had landed harshly on it, and crouched down behind Clare, reaching out a trembling hand. He gingerly touched her side, tears swimming in his eyes. Clare's eyes were frozen open, wide with terror, and her lower jaw hung down slightly, tongue lolling out.

Sam then looked up at Cryssandra, who bore three deep gashes across her right eye. She was smiling coldly.

"I just showed my insubordinate underling what happens to those who decide to disobey me."

"You bitch!" Sam growled, his hands clenching into fists, gripping bits of Clare's black fur, which started to dull as it lost the lustrous sheen that once gave life to it.

"Sticks and stones, Sammy." Cryssandra tsked. "You're the only one left that I have to take care of."

Sam's chest tightened at this. "What are you talking about?" he asked, his mind going to his father and friend as he risked a glance to Dean.

Cryssandra smiled coldly. "Well, you're brother is dead, and I believe your father and surrogate father are being taken care of now as we speak. And that pesky furball is no longer a cause for concern, not that she was much of a threat anyways." The witch then chuckled heartlessly and raised her hand towards Sam, a deep violet glow forming in her palm. "This is for my sister, you bastard."

A ball of crackling, angry magic flew towards Sam.

**SPNSPNSPN**

Bobby and John were breathing heavily from deflecting enchanted knives and china. They had a few cuts and bruises on their heads and shoulders from the attempts. The hunters had overturned the dining room table, uncaring about the extravagant arrangement of food, dishes, and an elaborate candelabra-thankfully unlit- that crashed unceremoniously onto the Persian rug, using it to shelter themselves and recuperate.

"So any brilliant ideas of how we're gonna get out of here without being shishkabobbed?" Bobby asked, opening his gun to empty out spent shells to replace them with more ammo from his breast pockets. John was doing the same thing.

"No, not unless you have a counter-spell of some sort," John winced as the two inch long cut on his forehead from a close encounter with a steak knife stung as sweat dripped into it.

"Sorry, I left my spellbook at home," Bobby responded, a tease of a smile playing across his lips. "Didn't think we'd really need it."

"Well for once, old man," John said with a small smile of his own, "you're wrong. And I have a feeling that this is just a distraction."

"Where do you think the witch is then?" Bobby asked, afraid of the answer.

"With Sam." John confirmed. "This whole revenge thing was aimed at him, after all, and I'm pretty sure that the witch wants to dish out some punishment on Sam herself."

"We have to find him, then. I doubt he's well equipped to handle a witch as strong as her by himself." Bobby said, peeking out from behind the table, drawing his head back in time to avoid getting hit by a large gray blur that shot straight past him a second later, smashing into the wall and shattering into pieces.

"You nearly got toasted by a toaster," John stated, earning an eye-roll from Bobby.

"Now I know where Dean gets his sense of humor from."

John grinned as he risked a peek around the table, expecting to see something like the microwave fly towards him. He was surprised to see that all magical activity from the kitchen had ceased. Silverware and shattered dishes littered the tile floor.

"That can't be good." Bobby said, standing up, his aging knees popping.

"The witch probably lost her hold on the magic that she placed over the kitchen," John agreed. "Bet you that's anything but good."

"Yeah, probably using all she has to kill Sammy." John's gut clenched queasily. "As stubborn as that kid is, he's probably making things difficult."  
>"Well, we shouldn't stand around here, doing nothing. He needs backup."<p>

The two then cautiously approached the dining room door. Knives that they had dodged were lodged deep into the wood. John tested the handle, finding that the door opened easily. He and Bobby shared a look before leaving, heading for the hallway that Sam had been instructed to check out. They stopped in the middle, looking from the closed door on the left to the library on the right.

"Library," Bobby pointed.  
>"How can you be so sure?" John asked.<p>

"Don't you ever pay attention to those old movies?" Bobby berated teasingly. "The hidden room is _always_ in the library! And how much do you wanna bet that that's where the witch is keeping Dean?"

John chuckled. "Then let's go. My boys need our help."

**SPNSPNSPN**

Sam barely managed to dodge the projected ball of magic, which crashed into the far wall, exploding it in tiny shrapnels of brick. He gulped, afraid to know what would happen if that hit flesh and blood. He looked around for the gun that Cryssandra had ripped from his grasp, spotting it just ten feet to his left. His eyes shot back to Cryssandra, seeing her prepare for another attack, taking the chance to run towards his dropped weapon, using his long legs to their advantage. He dove just as another magic sphere flew over his head, hitting a wooden support beam, splintering it in half. Sam grasped the gun, spun onto his back, aimed, and then fired, the recoil jarring his aching shoulder from his earlier acrobatic act.

Cryssandra gasped as her body jerked from the impact of the bullet entering her chest and through her heart. Blood dripped from her mouth as she began to futilely gasp in lungfuls of air. Her fair, peach skin faded to a pale grey and her eyes sunk in, losing their lustrous shine and beauty. Her raven hair was stringy, wavy, and a dark, dull grey. Sam shakily got to his feet and approached her, stopping inches away from her swaying form.

"That," he spat, "was for my brother _and_ Clare, you skank." He then reached out and pushed her. She was dead before she hit the ground with a dull thud, her skin withering and greying more, transforming her from an attractive, young woman, to a repulsive, wrinkly corpse.

Sam huffed out a breath of relief, glad to have finally brought an end to the bitch who caused his brother and family so much pain and worry for the past few days. His eyes went to Clare's dead body and then to Dean's; tears stung his eyes.

At that moment, the door to the hidden room slammed open from John Winchester's heavy booted kick and he and Bobby rushed through the doorway, calling out to Sam and Dean. They stopped as they took in the scene.

Clare's body lay on the ground, Cryssandra's corpse was a few feet away from them, and Dean's motionless form sat slumped in the chair, his magical bonds had vanished when the witch had been killed. Sam stood in the center of the room, eyes full of tears as he looked at John and Bobby before he went over to Dean.

"Oh, Sam," Bobby whispered, unsure of whether he should console the boy or let him gather himself together.

"What happened?" John asked.

"The witch is dead." Sam said then became silent as he worked to remove Dean's gag. After several seconds, he finally managed to extricate it. Sam then tossed it onto the ground and reached in with his pointer finger and thumb to grasp the cloth lodged into his brother's mouth and gently pull it out. He then placed two shaky fingers on Dean's left carotid artery. Tears fell from his eyes when he felt no pulse.

"Sam…what happened to your brother?" John asked, taking a step forward, stopping when his younger son suddenly took his brother's body into his arms, with one wrapped firmly around Dean's shoulders and the other under his knees. Dean's head rested in the crook of Sam's neck.

"We have to get him out of here, back to Bobby's." Sam said, his eyes hard yet, at the same time, soft with unshed tears. His mouth was set into a firm line, meaning that he left no room for any arguments. He stepped over Cryssandra's corpse, walked past his father and friend, then stopped in the doorway. He turned to face them. "Bobby, can you…." Sam hesitated as his eyes shifted down to Clare.

"Sure, kid. I'll wrap Clare up in my jacket and put her in the trunk. We can bury her when Dean awakes."

"But," Sam gulped. "The witch said that he was….that he…"

Bobby walked over to Sam and placed a consoling hand upon the boy's shoulder. "Boy, I've seen your brother in worse shape than this. Besides," Bobby then placed a hand on Dean's cheek. "He still feels warm."

Sam stared incredulously at his friend and then back at Dean. It was true, now that he thought about it. Dean's body still had a significant amount of warmth to it, which meant that his blood was still flowing freely, which meant that his heart….Sam mentally slapped his forehead. His hand had been trembling too much to accurately take Dean's pulse. That was why he thought he could barely feel it.

"Oh God, Bobby, I thought…" Sam sobbed, releasing his captive tears. "When the witch said that he was dead, I foolishly believed her!"

"Boy, you should know by now that any bad guys will say anything to you to get you worked up." Bobby smiled serenely.

"She…she also said that another jolt from the magic bonds Dean was tied up with would kill him, since he had been through the same torture all day. What if…"

"She was just yanking your chains, boy," Bobby assured him. "But there are other injuries on Dean that need our attention. So hurry up and get him into the Impala, wrap him in a blanket to make sure that the heat stays contained and so he doesn't go into shock. John and I will handle the witch and I'll get Clare."

"What are you planning to do with her?" Sam nodded to Cryssandra.

"Salt and burn her body to purify it," John answered. "Then the rest of the house."

Sam gaped at his father, jaw open. "You're really gonna burn down this entire building?"

"She took my son, and nearly killed my other son. And as far as I'm concerned, anyone who even thinks about laying a hand on you both is good as dead. Besides, I don't want any hooligan teenagers finding her magic books and talismans. Who knows what trouble they'd get themselves into?" John then smiled and winked at his youngest son. Sam huffed and smiled broadly, deep dimples showing.

"Now go," John then ordered. "Get your brother out of here. Bobby and I will be along shortly. See if you can patch up that bullet wound, while you're at it."

Sam nodded, acknowledging the true concern that John was finally showing him and Dean, warmed by it. "It looks like it's through and through. A simple cleanse and stitch job."

Sam then turned around and headed out.

"We should be thankful that this house is in a secluded area," Bobby said, taking a large can of fuel from his jacket and spraying it all over Cryssandra's corpse. He then handed the can over to John, who started sprinkling more all over the room as he headed over to Clare's tiny body. Bobby's heart was in his throat as he reached out and touched the kitten's side. She was cold.

"I'm sorry, girl." Bobby then gently closed Clare's eyes and took off his jacket, taking great care in wrapping the kitten up in it. He then held her as if she were a baby and headed towards the door just as John was finishing up.

"Let's go." John nodded and tilted the can so that as he followed Bobby out of the mansion, a long trail of gas leading down into the soaked basement had been left.

Sam was waiting for them inside the Impala, in the backseat. Dean was bundled tightly in two blankets and lying in his younger brother's lap, his head pillowed on Sam's shoulder.

"You got that bullet wound taken care of?" Bobby asked him through the open window.

Sam nodded. "It's patched up, for now, but I want to stitch him up at your place."

Bobby nodded, understanding. He then moved to put Clare's body into the trunk.

The two were startled as a great plume of fire suddenly erupted from the entrance of the mansion. It didn't take long for the whole building to soon be engulfed. John ran towards them.

"We better get out of here before the smoke draws attention."

"That'll be the most normal thing that's happened to us lately," Bobby chuckled, getting into the passenger seat.

John smiled as he got behind the wheel and slammed the door shut. He then started the engine, which purred to life immediately.

Sam swore he felt his brother shift closer and sigh with content. He smiled and hugged him closer, kissing Dean's hairline, then resting his cheek against the spikes of Dean's gelled hair.

"You're safe now, big brother."

When John looked back at his sons in the rearview mirror an hour later, he smiled and nudged Bobby, who looked back and smiled too. Sam had fallen asleep, cradling his older brother, both arms wrapped around him protectively. Sam's head rested upon Dean's as he listed against the door. His long legs were folded up onto the seat, holding Dean's firmly and gently in place. Both boys looked at least sixteen years younger.

"I'm actually glad that you and Sam had given Dean the best childhood that he never had the chance to experience." John said quietly. Bobby looked over at him with a raised eyebrow. "God knows that I haven't been the best father to him since his was 4 years old. He was such a happy kid, got along with everyone. And his smile, it was enough to melt anyone's heart. When he beamed at you, you'd find yourself doing the same right back. And his laugh…" John paused to wipe away a tear. "I'd give anything to be able to hear it again. Bobby, I shouldn't have performed that spell on Dean. If I hadn't, he'd still be an adorable ball of energy with all his senses intact. But, I just wanted him back to normal, afraid that if I left him as he was, he'd be that way forever."

"John, you couldn't have known," Bobby said, trying to ease some of his friend's guilt that weighed down upon his shoulders.

"But I should have," John slammed a hand on the steering wheel, wincing as he heard Sam groan. He looked in the rearview mirror to see his face shift expressions and bring Dean closer to him.

"John, the point of Sam and me letting Dean remain a child was to not only wait for the spell to wear off on its own, no matter how long it took, but to also give him a second childhood. But I'm sure that the one he's experienced for those four years with you and Mary and the baby moose in her tummy was just as great. I didn't know Mary, but I know that she was the best thing that could happen to you. Then when you found out that you were gonna be a father, well, I can only imagine how much more excited you'd become."

John laughed softly, his mind going back to the day that Mary had told him that she was pregnant with Dean and how he had just scooped her up into his arms and kissed her, doing the same thing four years later.

"I don't agree with raising your children as soldiers for the past fifteen years, but I know that they wouldn't want anyone else as their father. In fact, this hunting life may have created the most cherishable and unbreakable bond between them than I've ever seen with any other siblings. Those boys would die for each other, and I think this whole incident was enough to prove that. So, in my opinion, you did right, John Winchester."

Bobby then patted the eldest Winchester on the back and smiled warmly at him, which was returned along with teary eyes.

"Dammit, Bobby. We just had a chick-flick moment. I'm glad the boys are asleep."

"As far as you knew," a soft reply came from the backseat. Bobby and John looked back into the rearview mirror and saw Sam still asleep, but a wide grin was on his face this time.

Bobby and John laughed; the air in the Impala was less tense and had a light atmosphere. Things were going to be alright now. But for the time being, they were going to swore off any other hunts that involved witches and black magic, just to be safe.

* * *

><p><strong>I didn't like killing Clare, I really didn't. I had actually stopped typing and cuddled my cat, who I consider my baby, Reddy for awhile. He didn't like it, but I needed something to snuggle for a bit while I get over the fact that I did, indeed, kill an animal in my story ;n;<strong>

**TBC...**


	15. Chapter 15

**;;;;;A;;;;; Final chapter! *cries* But I REALLY hope that you enjoyed reading this as much as I had fun typing it! 8')**

**It was a real treat for me to go from deaged!Dean to hurt/angsty!Dean with protective/caring!Sammy X3 I enjoy those kinds of fanfics the most!**

**I'm really glad to also have this done before Halloween XD I do have another deaged!Dean story in mind and another that is a sort of 'What If' type story placed in season 4 :) I might do the deaged! one first, but I'm not sure yet o-o; I think I need a break from writing for now XD**

**Anyways, THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR AWESOME AND LOVING REVIEWS! ;w; I really loved getting them anytime I opened my email :) They make me smile reading them! X3 And thank you for also pardoning any grammatical or spelling or inconsistencies this story might have XD I should really take notes :P**

**I already had to change the timeline for my _"Alienated"_ story because I had forgotten key details that wouldn't have made sense if I kept the story in the timeline it had orginally been placed in =_= **

**Sorry, I'm babbling...I'll let you read the story now O-o;; ENJOY!**

**This takes place between the season 1 eps _"Scarecrow"_ and _"Faith" _*PS, I did also check the timeline for this story and it seems like "_Faith"_ may have been during June or July, but it's just speculated, so I think I'm safe for now...if not, well then, I apologize ;w;***

_**Supernatural**_**: Eric Kripke**

* * *

><p>Sam Winchester yawned widely as he padded quietly down the hallway from the bathroom, heading back to the room he and his older brother had been staying in since John had gotten them all back to Bobby's house the morning before. Sam had then carried Dean up to their bedroom where he had cleansed and bandaged his wounds more thoroughly, changed him into some sweats, a thin t-shirt, and his charcoal hoodie before finally bundling him up in every blanket he could find, making sure that he was warm enough.<p>

Bobby and John had told him that they'd take care of Clare and not bury her till after Dean woke up, in case the boy asked for her. Sam knew that he will feel distraught once he found out what had happened, and he'd be right there beside him to offer any comfort he knew Dean would need, despite his tough-as-nails exterior that was sure to try and conceal the pain and grief.

Sam had grabbed his own pillows and transferred them to his brother's bed, giving him most of them, only keeping one for himself as he lay beside Dean, grasping his big brother's hand tightly and quietly talking to him, urging him to be alright. It had reminded him back to when they were younger where he would find himself snuggled up to Dean's side after a horrible nightmare or after a brutal hunt that left the older boy severely hurt or sick. It provided Sam comfort to be near his brother in those times of need, not only to offer reassurance that Dean was right there with him, but also so he could feel and hear Dean's heartbeat as he rested his head on his chest, something that always lulled him to sleep. It was a childhood habit that Sam refused to give up.

It was about midnight and Sam expected to see Dean still out of it when he returned, so, needless to say, he was rather stunned upon finding the silhouette of his upright older brother sitting on the edge of the bed, back towards him, facing the window where a broad beam of moonlight shown through, giving the hunter a halo of faint blue light around him.

Sam noticed that Dean's hands, which were gripping the edge of the mattress in a tight grip, were trembling badly. He hurried towards him and grasped Dean by the shoulders just as he started to tilt forwards.

"Whoa! Easy, Dean." Sam whispered soothingly, moving to sit beside his brother so he could lean him against his own body. Sam frowned at the slight heat emanating from Dean. He figured a fever was well on its way from the bullet wound, and mixed with the fact that Dean's body might still be recovering from the torture of the numerous amounts of shockings it had endured, the older hunter's body wouldn't be able to fight it off as great as it normally could. Sam was ready though. There was a bathroom cabinet stock full of antibiotics and pain relievers at ready nearby.

"S'm?" Dean asked tiredly, turning glazed eyes up towards his little brother. "Wh'tr 'ou d'ng here? B'ch get 'ou too?"

Dean's voice sounded like he had swallowed a gallon of gravel, most likely from all the screaming he had done, making Sam's heart clench with guilt that they hadn't found him sooner. Dean was also slurring his words due to a mix of fatigue and the upcoming fever.

Sam smiled and stroked Dean's forehead, brushing back the hair that was sticking to it because of the sweat. "No, Dean. We got you out. We nearly didn't make it, but she's dead now. Her house and spellbooks are gone as well. No one will be able to find her body or any of her magic. So no one else will get hurt."

Dean sighed, whether in exhaustion or relief, Sam didn't know. He relaxed further into Sam's embrace. "Di' good, S'mmy. Pr'd of ya."

Tears sprung up in Sam's eyes and he smiled, tightening his arms around his brother and giving him a quick kiss on the hairline. "Thanks, big-brother. But you taught me everything I needed to know. Now c'mon, let's get you back to bed."

"Kinky SOB," Dean smirked as Sam gently maneuvered him under the sheet and comforter, laying him on his back, mindful of his still sore muscles. "D'n't swing 'at way."

Sam chuckled, shaking his head fondly as he adjusted the blanket so that it rested just under Dean's chin. "Me neither, Jerk. Not my type, anyways."

"Bitch." Dean managed to get out before unconsciousness slipped him into a warm cocoon of comfort and slumber.

Sam smoothed his older brother's hair once more before he climbed in beside him, turning to his side so that he faced Dean and watched him sleep till he, soon, was enveloped in that same cocoon.

**SPNSPNSPN**

Sam was downstairs in the kitchen, making lunch that consisted of some grilled cheese and ham sandwiches and a bowl of chicken noodle soup, minus the meat, for Dean. He was sure that big brother's stomach wasn't ready for solid foods yet, and he didn't want to upset it even more. Sam had taken the liberty of crushing four pain pills into a cup of orange juice he just poured, knowing that Dean wouldn't take them willingly, as stubborn as his ass was, and that four could do more relief than two with Dean's injuries.

John was sitting at the table, scouring the local paper for anymore hunts and Bobby was outside, working on his Chevelle. Sunshine sprinkled in through the curtains, giving the usually dim room a slight speckled, golden glow. The sky outside was a clear baby-blue, with scattered white puffs here and there. It was a pleasantly cool July day. But the happy feeling that it generated would soon be downtroddened by what the three hunters had in plan later on.

"Have you told Dean about…you know," John asked, looking up from his paper, looking at the back of his youngest boy. He saw Sam halt his actions, his shoulders drooping.

"No." Sam replied with a heavy sigh. He finished making the sandwiches, turning to set them on the table then returning to the counter to stir Dean's soup. "He woke up last night with the signs of an upcoming fever. I couldn't tell him when he was feeling crappy already."

John sighed and set down the paper, ignoring the platter of sandwiches in front of him. "Sam, Clare's corpse will start to decay soon, we need to bury her as soon as possible. We can't…"

"I know, Dad!" Sam yelled, whirling around to glare at him. "But I can't put Dean through anymore pain…at least, not right now. Can't we put Clare in a freezer to delay the decaying till after Dean is better?"

John's lips pressed together in a firm line. He then nodded. "Alright, Sam. Bobby has an old industrial freezer in his garage. It should still be functional, if Bobby can remember where he put the power cord, that is." John added with a slight smile. Sam couldn't help it and smiled as well.

"Thanks, Dad."

They looked up at the ceiling as they heard the floorboards creak. John looked back at Sam.

"Looks like your brother is awake again. You better take him up some of that soup. It's been two days since he last ate."

Sam nodded and placed the bowl of tepid soup and a plate with four crackers along with the glass of orange juice onto a tray and carefully made his way upstairs with it. He set the tray onto a stand in the hallway to open the door to their room. He had arrived just in time to see Dean standing from the bed, only to tilt forward and rushed to catch him. Dean's skin was slick with sweat. Sam made a mental note to check his brother's temperature later.

"Whoa, Dean! What the hell do you think you're doing up, man?" Sam grunted under his brother's weight. Sure, he was a few inches shorter than he was, but he also had more muscles on him. He needed to get Dean onto a better diet than the greasy diner food.

"I'm getting tired of lying down, Sam," Dean breathed, his red face covered in sweat. But it looked like he was also shivering a bit too. "It's hot up here and I'm too sore to just lay still."

"Dean, you have a fever, that's why you feel hot, and rest is something that you desperately need. Your muscles need to heal, and so does that bullet wound." Sam told him, moving so that he could lay Dean back down on the bed, covering him with just the sheet when he noticed that Dean had somehow managed to dress himself from the sweats into his jeans.

He still wore the hoodie, but his black t-shirt was thrown carelessly onto the floor between the beds. Despite what Dean said about being hot, he still felt the cold chills associated with a fever and kept the hoodie on. Sam noticed that it was the one he always seemed to give to his big brother whenever he was sick or injured. It served as a medium of comfort to the older hunter, Sam guessed. He smiled at the thought.

"Fine," Dean grumbled, rolling his red eyes. Sam could see signs of bags starting to appear underneath them. "But you owe me a pie, Bitch."

Sam huffed in mock disbelief. "Jerk! _I _owe _you_? Umm, tell me again who saved who, exactly? If anyone owes anybody something, it's _you_."

"Please," Dean smirked. "I had a plan."

"That's what you told me back in Burkittsville before I came to save your and Emily's asses from the pagan scarecrow, you know." Sam grinned smugly.

Dean frowned, squinting his eyes at him, trying to recall. "Really? Did I?"

Sam nodded. "Yup. So I think that's _twice_ now that you owe me."

"Oh, but what about the Roosevelt Asylum, Samantha?" Dean snapped his fingers. "Who burned Ellicott's bones and saved us both? And let's not forget about the poltergeist who tried to strangle you back in Lawrence when we went back to our old house. So, you owe me twice as well! Actually, maybe even more than that if you also throw in the Lady in White, shape-shifter, and Hookman cases."

Sam laughed. "Alright, alright, fine. You win. I'll get you your pie when you're better. But _only_ then, deal?" He held out his hand to Dean, who grasped it weakly and shook it.

"Deal." Dean then winced as a slight pain shot up his arm, dropping it to his side immediately, rubbing his bicep.

"You alright?" Sam asked worriedly.

"Yeah, I just get these little pricks of pain every now and then. I guess that's good though, right?"

"I suppose, but if they get any worse than 'little pricks' you better let me know." Sam said sternly, pointing a finger at his brother. Along with sweating and shivering, general weakness and muscle aches were two other fever symptoms, but Sam knew that wasn't the only culprit.

"Yes mother." Dean rolled his eyes then looked around. "So, where's the little furball?"

Sam's heart plummeted to his stomach. He was afraid Dean would ask, just didn't expect it so soon.

He gave a feeble smile. "Wh-who?" He mentally slapped himself for stuttering.

Dean looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Scooby-Doo, Sam. Clare! Where is Clare? Is she sleeping?"

"_Eternally,"_ Sam thought with a gulp. He then sighed sadly. "Dean, there's…something you should know."

His older brother fixed him with a stare that would rival his own puppy eyes, and it made it all the harder to tell Dean the truth. But he needed to know.

"Sam?" Dean's voice was soft. It cracked on that one syllable of Sam's name. "What's wrong? What happened? Where's Clare?"

Sam bit his lower lip as tears welled up in his eyes. "Dean, Clare is...she…the witch…I'm really sorry, Dean."

Apparently, that was all Dean needed to know. His eyebrows were scrunched up in worry, but his eyes flashed in anger at the same time. He struggled to get out from under the sheet.

"Dean! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Sam cried, grabbing his brother's shoulders, trying to keep him down.

"Where is she?" Dean grunted, shoving at Sam's hands that were grasping him firmly with his own weak hands. "Where's Clare?"

"Dad's placing her body in a freezer." Sam replied.

"What?! Why?"

"We want to wait to bury her till you were better! The freezer will help delay the decaying process."

"No," Dean growled, finally managing to break away from Sam. He shoved away the sheet and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, standing up. The next thing he knew, he was laying horizontally, warm and strong arms the only things holding him up from the cold bare floor.

"Dean, stop, please." Sam's voice begged him. Dean could hear the tears in his voice.

"Sam," Dean said, glaring heatedly at him.

John suddenly appeared at the door, Bobby right behind him.

"What in blazes are you two idjits doing up here?" Bobby asked. "Dean, you okay?"

"I'm fine; take me to Clare, now!" Dean pushed himself up with shaky arms, nearly collapsing back into Sam's.

John and Bobby inhaled sharply and looked at Sam, who just looked so lost on what to do.

"Please." Dean pleaded, switching from anger to begging, looking at his family with tearful, insistent eyes. "I want to see Clare now. I want to give her a proper burial."

John scratched his head. "Alright, Dean. But you're going straight back into that bed when we're done. Get dressed and Bobby and I will make a funeral pyre."

Dean gasped. "No. I can't salt and burn her body."

"Why not?" Sam asked, helping Dean up to sit on the edge of the bed, sitting beside him and placing a gently, steadying hand on his shoulder.

"Clare isn't going to become an evil cat spirit. The witch is dead, so there should be no reason why she would be forced to be stuck here to exact revenge. She deserves to move on naturally, go to that big kitty box in the sky, or wherever the hell animals go when they…die." Dean choked out the last word, still finding it hard to believe that the little furball he'd grown so attached to was gone.

Sam smirked and rubbed Dean's shoulder comfortingly. "That was so girly, Deanna."

"Please, as if anyone could be as girly as you, Samantha." Dean grinned at his little brother.

"Don't make me separate you two," Bobby said from the doorway. He smiled at his surrogate sons before he and John left to prepare a casket for Clare.

"Dean, maybe you should eat something first before we go out there, get some of your strength back." Sam suggested.

Dean shook his head. "I'm not really hungry."

Sam frowned. "Dean, please. You haven't eaten in two days. You need food. I made you some chicken soup and crackers."

Dean grimaced. "Do I really have to eat that crap?"

Sam rolled his eyes and said, "Your stomach won't be able to handle solid foods right now. I'm going to crunch the crackers and mix them with the soup. It'll be a lot easier on you than a cheeseburger with bacon."

"Fine, Florence Nightingale. At least the soup has chicken in it."

"Sorry, bro, I had to remove the chicken bits."

"What? But those are the best parts," Dean pouted, looking all but 4 years old again, making Sam miss the deaged version of his big brother a bit..

Sam laughed and went outside to retrieve the tray.

**SPNSPNSPN**

A few hours later, the four hunters stood in front of a 2 foot long and 1 foot wide hole in the backyard of Bobby's house. John held a make-shift wooden coffin with a hinged lid that also had a padlock. Inside the coffin, Clare's tiny body was wrapped in cloth, giving her the appearance of one of those mummified cats Dean once saw when he was his elementary class took a field trip to a museum and they had passed through the Egyptian room.

The weather stayed pleasant, if not a bit chilly as the afternoon turned to evening, considering that it always seemed to be dark and dreary whenever a death occurred. Dean always wondered why that was. It just seemed to make things all the worse and miserable. He vaguely remembered that his mother's funeral had been like that. The cooling air was starting to make Dean's limbs ache, despite the pain killers he knew Sam thought he had sneakily mixed into his juice. He hoped he could make it through this. He had to. He would, for Clare.

"Dean," John said, looking at his oldest. "Would you like to say a few words to her before we place her down?"

Dean looked at him with watery eyes. Sam looked at him nervously. This was a bad idea, he knew it. But it was something big brother wanted to do. Besides, the sooner they got this over with, the sooner Dean would be back in bed, recovering.

"Yeah," Dean whispered brokenly. "Just, set it beside the grave, please."

John obeyed. Dean, with help from Sam, kneeled down beside the tiny coffin. He then took a shaking hand and slowly placed it upon the cold bandages covering Clare's flank.

"Clare, you were one lucky furball. If it weren't for Sam and Mini-Me finding you back then, I'm not sure where you would have wound up or what would have happened to you. But I'm damn glad we were able to save you. You were possibly the best pet we ever had. You had fit right in with our weird little family. I'm just sorry I could have been able to see and hear you after turning back to normal. I can't really remember what you looked like when I was a rugrat, but according to Sasquatch, you were the most adorable bundle of fur he's ever seen."

Sam smiled sadly from his position behind big brother, tears dripping down his face. John remained stoic, but Bobby was heard sniffling.

"But it seems you got struck with the infamous Winchester curse," Dean continued, swallowing a sob as he stroked Clare's back. "I just wish you hadn't. But I guess that's what happens when you get into our quarrel with the fuglies. But, Clare, you were amazing, somehow knowing where I was to lead Dad, Sammy, and Bobby to save my ass. And I'm very grateful that you also managed to protect Sammy. For that, I consider you an honorary Winchester."

Dean then took a handful of dirt and sprinkled it over Clare's body before brushing his hands off and standing back up, nearly toppling over but being righted by Sam.

"That was great, big brother," Sam told him, rubbing Dean's back and looking at him with a watery smile.

"Thanks," Dean whispered, letting out the sob he's been trying to keep in. The next thing he knew, he was embraced in his little brother's arms, his face buried into Sam's shoulders as he cried. Sam's voice spoke to him in a comforting tone, whispering soothing words to him.

"Shh, it's okay, Dean. Let it out. It's okay to cry, big brother. You don't have to pretend in front of us all the time. Shhhh…" Sam kissed the top of Dean's head to provide more reassurance.

"Take him back inside and settle him down," Bobby clasped a hand onto Sam's shoulder. "John and I will take care of the rest."

Sam smiled at him. "Thanks, Bobby." Sam then looked at his father. "Thanks, Dad."

A corner of John's mouth twitched upwards and he nodded. "You two just get some sleep. We'll wake you when it's time for dinner."

Sam returned the nod then looked back down at Dean, whose crying settled down a bit. "You ready to go back inside, Dean?" Sam asked softly. He felt a slight nod against his chest. "Alright, c'mon. Let's go."

Slowly, but surely, the brothers made their way back to Bobby's house, the older hunters watching them till they disappeared inside.

John then sighed and looked down at Clare. "I'm so sorry, girl," he said, crouching down to rest a hand on the spot Dean had his hand on before. "I was foolish to underestimate you. Dean was right. We wouldn't have found him it weren't for you. Thank you." John then closed the lid of the coffin, locking it securely, and grabbed it gently, slowly lowering it into the four foot deep hole.

Bobby watched him, a smirk on his face. "That was touching. Maybe you could earn an Emmy for that performance."

John stood up and grinned back. "Shut up, old man before I make you fill this hole back up yourself."

"Don't you dare threaten me, Jonathan," Bobby said with mock scorn. The two hunters shared a laugh before they began filling the hole back up. They then worked on a cross, on which John carved the words _"__Clare Winchester: Beloved pet and honorary family member"_, painting them with black paint to make them more legible.

Finally, Bobby and John erected the cross in front of the grave, making sure it remained stable before heading back into the house to fix dinner.

**SPNSPNSPN**

Dean lay awake later that night. He was dosed up on more pain pills, staring blankly at the ceiling. He felt somewhat high and tired, but just couldn't fall asleep, unlike the snoring moose that was his brother in the parallel bed. Sam had worn himself out caring for Dean, so he was forced by his older brother to get his ass into bed before he found a boot stuck up it. Dean was stubborn and wanted to maintain his status as the protector, not the protected. Sam had his fill when Dean was a toddler and was blind and deaf, so it was time for him to right things once more. As soon as he was over this damn fever, of course.

A movement out of the corner of his eye made him jerk his head over to the window. The curtains had been drawn and the windows were opened to air out and cool the room down. But other than that, nothing was there. Dean decided that his drugged mind was just playing a cruel joke on him and he sighed, moving his head so that he was facing Sam's bed. Sam's face was buried into the pillow, which acted to muffle some of his incredibly loud snores. The young hunter's arms hung off the sides of the bed as his legs were sprawled all over the place and sticking out of the blankets. Dean chuckled, wishing he had his phone. This was perfect blackmail fuel.

Dean tensed as he suddenly felt a weight at the foot of his bed. He quickly sat up, his mouth dropping open in shock as a pair of almond-shaped green eyes that seemed to illuminate through the darkness stared right back at him.

"Clare?" Dean whispered.

The young kitten that the eyes belonged to just tilted its head. It was then when Dean realized that this runt of a thing was far too small to be the four week old kitten Sam had described Clare as. The kitten also had a little heart-shaped fluff of fur on the bridge of its nose, while Clare had been a pure black cat. Dean's heart broke a little because he was not seeing the ghost of the kitten he had come to adore. But still, this little thing was kinda cute.

Dean smiled and patted the spot beside him. "Come here." The cat stood up and mewed softly, waddling towards him, stumbling a bit on the lumpy, soft mattress and proceeded to make itself comfortable by kneading the spot before curling up, purring contently. Dean smiled and stroked the soft fur gently. He had gotten a good look to see if the cat was male or female so he was able to come up with a name.

"Just wait till Sam finds about you, Clarita." Dean smirked, easing himself back down, rolling to his side so he could pet the kitten. He fell asleep, imagining his baby brother's surprise when he next awoke to check on him, which, judging by the clock on his phone, would be sooner rather than later.

Clarita just remained laying there, purring away as she slept next to her future master, her eyes flashing a vivid green before dimming as she closed them to cherish a deep slumber in a warm, safe home that she was pleased to have once more.

* * *

><p><strong>Almost wrote TBC XD;;; Silly me...<strong>

**:) Thank you for reading and all your reviews! I hope to have you all back whenever I post my next new story! X3 And please check out my _"Mothman" _and _"Alienated"_ stories, if you don't mind :) I'd love more feedbacks on them!**


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